


Collared

by KateKintail



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Angst, BDSM, Bondage, Collars, Dark, Dubious Consent, Established Relationship, F/M, First Time, Food Sex, Frottage, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Unrequited Love, Werewolves, collaring, sex slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:39:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 31
Words: 36,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unable to make ends meet after the war, Remus submits himself to the Ministry’s program for werewolves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for pervy_werewolf’s Lusty Month of May 2010. 
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is NOT of JKR’s making. I make no money from this at all. I also do not condone the keeping of werewolves as unwilling sex slave love pets. 
> 
> Pairings: Remus/Sirius, Remus/Severus, Remus/OMC, Remus/OFC, Remus/McNair, Remus/self, Snape/Lily, James/Lily

This man… this man Remus Lupin decided to call ‘the grunting man’. He grunted as he got out of his car. He grunted as he fished in his pocket for a few bills. He grunted as he pushed Remus up against the alley’s brick wall. He grunted as Remus tossed him. The man wasn’t as bad-looking as some Remus had been with, but he wasn’t a peach. Thick brown eyebrows, a startlingly bulbous nose, double-chin, pudgy belly, and far too small a cock.   
  
That last bit was kind of a blessing, however. Remus was able to cover the length of it with his hand merely wrapped around it. And he knew it any sucking or sex would be a breeze. He might not even feel it, if he was really lucky. Not that he felt much of anything these days apart from fatigue and hunger.   
  
“What will you do?” asked Grunting Man with—what else—a grunt.  
  
“Anything,” Remus replied. His heart used to sink when he said that. In fact, he used to have standards. He used to have boundaries. Condoms. No kissing. Only in safe places. But the big money came with big risk. And Remus needed the money. Besides, he always had his wand if he got into real trouble.  
  
“Anything, really? You’ll let me ride you bareback?”   
  
“Sure,” Remus answered, closing his eyes. Thank Merlin for protection spells. “For an extra hundred.”  
  
“Done,” he grunted.  
  


*  *  *  *  * 

 

The dawn broke while Remus lay face-down in the cheapest hotel room in England. The man who had last used him had sprung for two hours and had greatly overestimated his own stamina. The man had come and had vanished, looking slightly ashamed, leaving Remus a nice, warm place to stay for another hour and a half. Remus had taken a long shower, stripped the covers off the bed, and had climbed back onto the bed to relax.   
  
For a few glorious minutes, he could pretend everything was all right. He could close his eyes and pretend he was back at Hogwarts, back where he had friends and good marks and a warm place to sleep. He could pretend the dull pain in his arse was from his boyfriend’s cock and not that of some random stranger who had paid him. He could pretend he was whole once more.   
  
Eventually, he heard knocking at the door. Time was up.  
  
Remus dressed quickly and left, heading out into the cold winter morning. If not for his monthly cycle, he would have lost track of the time of the year altogether. He was only vaguely aware of Christmas coming up soon, though that didn’t really mean a thing. He smiled at the motel owner, who didn’t smile back at him, and he found a secluded spot where he could Apparate home.   
  
Remus shivered the moment he appeared in his flat. It seemed impossible but he was fairly certain it was colder inside his home than outside. He lit a fire in the fireplace, which wasn’t good for anything else now that its connection to the Floo Network had been discontinued because of lack of payment. Remus wasn’t very good at cooking either, so he settled for nibbling on a few slices of cold bread as he sat down to go over his finances.  
  
He pulled the wad of cash from his pocket and spread the bills across the table along with the rest he had earned that month. Soon the room warmed enough for the visible puffs of breath from his nose and mouth in the cold to end. He still sat on one of his hands, pressing it under his thigh where it could get warm. He shuffled the money around into piles on the table. He had enough for rent this month, so Mr. Arnold wouldn’t boot him out on his arse again. And he had enough for food, assuming he stuck to a diet of bread, cheap fruit, peanut butter, and rice. Well, he would need some red meat around the time of the moon, or his body would rebel again and his cravings would take over his mind. The problem was, he didn’t have enough to pay the Ministry. Their new werewolf program was cost prohibitive and fees went up every month, it seemed. Remus would be forced to pay more than his life was worth just for the opportunity to pay for a place to live. But, given his finances, there seemed to be only one course of action left open to him: he would have to report to the Ministry of Magic.


	2. Chapter 2

Remus dragged his old trunk into the center of his tiny flat and threw the top back. One of the buckles was loose and made the top fall back at an angle, dangling, jangling, and Remus stood a moment, staring at it. He dreaded going into the werewolf program, but what choice did he have, really? He had tried everything he could think of to make money, first selling his talents, then his wares, and finally his body. Not even the combination of all three had been enough to keep him from what seemed to be his fate.   
  
And it wasn’t as though he had anyone left to fight for him or help him out. James, Lily, and Peter had all been killed. And Sirius, well, Sirius was worse than dead after just a few months in Azkaban.   
  
Sirius. Remus sunk to the floor on his knees with a heavy sigh. Well, that relationship had certainly been a mistake and a half. They had shared a home and a bed and all the while he’d been working against the Order of the Phoenix for Lord Voldemort behind Remus’ back. And it wasn’t as though Remus hadn’t suspected he was the spy. The problem was, Remus had suspected everyone of being the spy. He had even suspected himself once or twice, wondering if maybe he had escaped in wolf form and passed some sort of information to the werewolves working for Voldemort.  
  
He would almost have preferred it to have been him. But, instead, it had been Sirius Black. Sirius Black who loved his friends with an unrivaled passion. Sirius Black who had offered Remus a place to live when money was tight and no one would hire him. Sirius Black who could made him come practically by looking in his general direction.   
  
Now Remus realized there had been both too many and too few of those moments. His time on the streets had taught him how different loveless sex could be from what he’d enjoyed with Sirius. Remus had been spoiled by his one and only boyfriend. How could anyone compare to Sirius? Those strong, powerful strokes. That touch that made Remus’ skin tingle with anticipation. Those eyes that looked deeply into Remus’ soul and pulled out precisely what Remus had secretly been longing for.   
  
Once it had been breath play. Remus could still remember the trust he’d felt while lying in Sirius’ arms, a scarf wrapped around his neck and Sirius’ hand wrapped around his cock. The sensual strokes of Sirius’ hand had been extraordinary. And he had been able to press his ear against Sirius’ bare chest, listening to the steady, excited breaths that Remus was deprived of. His head had grown foggy and he had gotten… well, there was no real word for it apart from high. He had felt so high above everything, out of the world, beyond all planes of existence. The sensation had filled him, taken him over. And Sirius had been there the whole time as both facilitator and anchor, giving Remus unmeasureable pleasure but then bringing him back out of it again when it was over and holding him until Remus felt ready to rejoin the world again. It had been terrifying and insanely erotic all in one, and Remus had never wanted to try it again in feat that his second experience wouldn’t live up to the first.   
  
They had tried sounding another time. Talk about terrified. It had been Remus’ idea in the first place. He’d heard about it somewhere and thought he might like the intensity. But when it came down to it, Remus had completely chickened out. He just couldn’t make his hand guide the slender rod into his penis. He knew it wouldn’t hurt if he was careful and stayed hard and still. But he was still worried it would hurt. “It’s all right,” Sirius had whispered into his ear, prying the rod from Remus’ fingers. “I can help you if you want. Or… I’ll do it instead.” Remus had shuddered and shaken his head. He had explained that he had chickened out, but Sirius shook his head, smiling. “No, I mean I’ll do it to myself. You can watch and many experience it through me.” Remus hadn’t wanted Sirius to risk his wellbeing just for a stupid little fetish. But as Sirius slowly started to insert the rod, a daring, brave fire sprung up in Remus. And, before he knew it, he was carefully sliding the other end of the probe into his penis. And there they were, connected, hearts racing, sharing something so stimulating and incredible and intimate Remus had barely been able to stand it.   
  
There was the time they had fucked mid-flight on the back of that devil of a motorbike. The wind had rushed past them and Remus was scared they would hit a gear or setting and crash land. He could just imagine the look on some muggle’s face to see their two naked bodies lying dead on the ground amidst the wreckage, probably still erect and ready for love. But they hadn’t crashed at all. In fact the vibrations of the parts on the bike had amplified the feelings. And there had been some measure of daring involved, to fuck so publicly while flying above a busy city.   
  
And that was the problem. Too extreme. Too exciting. Nothing any of Remus’ horny clients could come up with could compare to Sirius Black.   
  
Because, even when the sex was as simple and vanilla as could be with Sirius, it was still the most amazing Remus had ever felt. And every time he thought of it his heart ached with pain. The man who he had trusted with his heart and his life had betrayed them all so violently and viciously that there was no recovery.   
  
Remus was the one who had survived the war. Remus was alive, but he was broken. And there was no repairing that. It didn’t matter what he did or where he went. He didn’t want to submit to the Ministry, because he had heard enough rumors about what went on there to be terrified.   
  
With a deep breath, he gathered up the few books he had left and couldn’t part with and packed them away. He took the photo of his friends off his table and placed it carefully in the trunk. He gathered up what few clothes he had that weren’t tattered and torn and put those in as well. He had sold just about everything he owned of value, but it was the sentimental items—his Gryffindor scarf, the pincushion Lily had given him as a birthday present, the first chocolate frog card he had ever found—that he put away. And last, he laid his wand in the trunk. Where he was going, he wasn’t going to need it, and he wanted it to be safe.  
  
He looked one last time at it, the slender form, the twisting wood, the bulb at the end. Then he shut the lid, uttered his protective word, and made sure it locked. That was it, his past, his life, all locked up tight and secure.   
  
Remus had lived through terror before, and he would live through this just the same.


	3. Chapter 3

“Thank you for visiting the Ministry of Magic. Proceed to your left where you will see a bank of elevators. The Wizengamot is in Courtroom eight on Level 10. It started at half past so enter quietly or you’ll be booted.”  
  
Momentarily at a loss for words, Remus stood at the information desk. So the Wizengamot was holding trials now, were they? That might be something to see. He hadn’t realized things were done so formally now; his subscription to the  _Daily Profit_  had been one of the first things cut from his budget. Sirius hadn’t had a trial; he’d just been shipped right off to Azkaban, laughing the whole way, Remus supposed. Remus wasn’t sure he would have been able to watch Sirius’ trial, though, as it would have brought the death of his closest friends back to him in startling detail. Instead, the last time he had seen Sirius had been Halloween morning. They’d made love gloriously in the warm rays of the dawn. Remus had fixed them both a cup of tea and they had done the crossword puzzle together in bed… before making love a second time in as many hours. Remus knew now that he’d been making love to a murderer, but he still liked to remember Sirius like that. That was the Sirius he wanted.   
  
But there wasn’t time to stand around. If he lingered too long, he might lose what little courage he had gathered. “Actually, I’m not here to see the trial. I’m… a werewolf.” Saying that out loud never got any easier.  
  
The witch at the desk in front of him looked up from her crossword puzzle. She looked startled and a little bit afraid. No doubt she was looking at the scars across his face. Sometimes when he was working he used a glamour to project a more handsome face to his customers, because his normally scarred face wasn’t always a crowd pleaser. “You’re here to register or submit?” There was a little bit of disgust in her voice as well, Remus was sure of it.  
  
Remus swallowed, finding his mouth and throat almost too dry to do so. “Submit,” he said softly.   
  
“The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures is on the fourth floor.”  
  
“Thank you,” Remus said, then nodded toward the puzzle. “You’ve got 23-across wrong, by the way. A creature who lures travelers into bogs, 9 letters, is a Hinkypunk, not a Grindylow.”   
  
“Excuse me, this is my puzzle and I didn’t ask you for help,” she said coldly. “There’s a bank of elevators on your left. Fourth floor.”  
  
Remus nodded and left, his trunk floating behind him just a few inches off the floor like a little lost puppy. When he got to the elevator he looked back and saw her vanishing half of the answers in her puzzle and starting over again with, from the look of it, 23-across.  
  
The fourth floor was far too cheery for words. The wallpaper was pink and the carpet was bright red, probably to hide any blood that might be spilled there. There was a little reception area, and he approached the desk there. “My name is Remus John Lupin. I’m a werewolf and I’m here to…” Now that he was finally there, it was harder than he thought to say. His stomach ached with the final words. “…submit myself.”   
  
The woman at the desk sized him up and nodded. “Take a seat. We’ll call you when we’re ready for you.”  
  
Remus barely had time to lower himself into one of the poofy pink fur and lace armchairs before a woman appeared in front of him. “Mr. Lupin?” Remus nodded. “Follow me, please. Remus did.  
  
The brown haired, brown-eyed woman in Ministry robes led him down the hall to a room labeled “Interview Room Two.” Remus wondered what was happening in Interview Room One at the moment to make her go to two instead, and then he decided he didn’t really want to know.   
  
He sat down in the chair in front of yet another desk, though this one was more like a simple table. There were stacks and stacks of forms spread out across it, and the woman picked up one in the middle. As soon as she did so, bindings shot out from the arms of Remus’ chair, restraining him. He knew it was for her own safety, because some of the questions she had to ask would not be easy for any man, yet they still made him jump in surprise. His natural instinct was to fight against the restrains, but he pushed that away and, a moment later, he was glad he did, because she had been watching him closely, and she scribbled something on the paper about his reaction.   
  
“Name,” she requested.  
  
“Remus John Lupin.”  
  
“Current place of residence.”   
  
He hesitated. “This chair.”  
  
She narrowed cold eyes at him.  
  
“None. I got rid of my flat before coming here.”  
  
“You were that sure you would be accepted into the program?”  
  
Program? They called this a program? “I have the money.”   
  
She regarded him curiously for a moment, then nodded and made a few more notes on her paper. “Date of birth.”  
  
“March 10, 1960.”  
  
“So you’re twenty-one?”   
  
Remus nodded. He didn’t feel twenty-one.  
  
“Occupation?”  
  
“Unemployed.”  
  
She looked up, not buying it, and Remus wondered if she might be a Legilimens.   
  
“I’ve been working on the streets as a rentboy.”  
  
“You?” The doubt in her voice was overwhelming. “You are considerably older than most.”  
  
Remus wanted to thank her so much for rubbing that in. “Obviously I couldn’t make a living at it. That’s why I’m submitting myself here.”   
  
She nodded. “Any special skills?”   
  
Remus listed off a few things. Scholarship with a concentration in magical creatures (he thought he heard her snort at that) and a proficiency for cleanliness and order.  
“Criminal record?”  
  
“None.”   
  
“Have you ever killed a human?”  
  
“Never.”  
  
“An animal?”  
  
“No. I’m no vegetarian but I’ve never personally done the killing.”  
  
“Are you straight, gay, or bi?”  
  
“Gay.”  
  
“Are you only physically able to have sex with men?”  
  
“Yes.” He had never tried to have sex with a woman, but if Lily Evans hadn’t been able to get a rise out of him, when he was as in love with her as everyone else in school , he figured it was a hopeless cause.  
  
“Are you married?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Mated?”  
  
Remus hesitated. “No.”  
  
“Do you have a pack?”  
  
Remus hesitated again. His voice broke when he answered “No.”  
  
“Why the hesitation?”  
  
Remus leaned forward slightly, as much as he could with the restraints still in place. “My family is dead. My mate killed my pack and was sent to Azkaban for it. So, no, I don’t have anyone anymore.”   
  
She nodded. “All right. Any limitations we should know about?”  
  
“None, apart from my transformation once a month.”  
  
“Any diseases, sexual or otherwise?”  
  
“None.”  
  
“Sure about that?”  
  
“Absolutely. Safe and clean is how I operate.”  
  
Clearly not amused, she gave him a look. “I think that’s everything, then for the moment. There is a fair deal of paperwork here.” With a snap of her fingers, she commanded the restrains to retreat. “We’ll start with registering your belongings and go from there. After the paperwork there will be an inspection. And then you will be taken to a holding room where you will stay until you’re chosen.” She slid a stapled, three page document in his direction. “You’ll need to read this, initialing each point as you go along. The final page addresses the issue of collars. Many of the clients prefer to purchase collared werewolves. Would you agree to wear a collar?”  
  
Once again, Remus paused before he could answer. This time, he couldn’t help but remember his first and last time wearing a collar.


	4. Chapter 4

**Flashback- 1980**  
  
It took Remus a few moments to get through the front door, given the numerous complicated locks. But, once he was inside, he spotted Sirius on their sofa. The dark-haired man jumped up at once, looking excited. “How did it go?”  
  
Remus shook his head. “Didn’t get the job.”  
  
Sirius’ face fell. “Screw them.”  
  
Collapsing onto the sofa with a sigh, “No thanks. Would rather screw you.”  
  
And that was when history’s largest grin spread across Sirius’ face. “Then I think I have something to make you feel better.” He led Remus by the hand into the bedroom. He ran to the bed and grabbed something Remus had never seen before: a collar. More specifically, a gorgeous, black leather collar with small metal studs embedded in it. The inside was padded with something soft-looking—plush or velvet. And opposite the buckle was a metal circle, perfect for attaching a leash.  
  
Remus salivated at the sight. He had mentioned having a collar to Sirius off and on for years now, ever since they’d made up after the prank and grown serious as a couple. Every full moon, Padfoot stayed at his side, keeping him from doing harm. And every morning after the full moon he woke up in Sirius’ arms. It hadn’t taken them long to begin dating exclusively. After Hogwarts, they had moved in together and had never been happier. The missions they went on with the Order were life-threatening; they could die at any moment, but Remus would have chosen no other man to watch his back. Remus’ trust in Sirius had never been stronger and he wanted something that would show that.   
  
In his opinion, it was the perfect time to be collared. He could just imagine the feel of this collar as Sirius slipped it onto his neck. He could already hear the sound of it being buckled and the way Sirius’ warm fingers would feel on the back of his neck. He wanted Sirius to claim him with the collar, make him his possession.   
  
It would open up an entire world of play, a whole new dynamic to what they were. He would be able to trust Sirius to do anything with his body, knowing Remus’ desires and needs, his kinks and his limitations. The whole idea of being able to trust anyone so intrinsically was so stimulating and wonderful. Remus could picture Sirius standing there, leash in hand, as a line, connecting them together. Remus would get down on his hands and knees, naked, healing at Sirius’ side, showing his total, utter, and complete submission to the one man who meant the world to him. And Sirius would accept him, flaws and scars and all. Sirius would want him, command him, protect him, love him. Belonging was the one thing Remus had always wanted.   
  
Before Remus could sink to his knees in submission and accept that most beautiful gift, he caught sight of something else on the bed. Or, rather, another something.   
  
Sirius reached over and grabbed a second collar. “I got two, so we could match!”   
  
And that’s when Remus’ heart sank right down into his stomach. “Pads, I didn’t want one as a fashion statement. A collar is about submission, belonging. I want to be yours.”  
  
“And I want to be yours,” Sirius said, shrugging. He fingered the identical collar. “We’re both canines, after all. Why can’t we be equals? Just think of how we’ll look wanking each other wearing matching collars.” He obviously noticed the look of devastation on Remus’ face. “They’re like rings that straight couples wear. They mean we belong to each other. You belong to me, and I belong to you.”   
  
Remus gave him a weak smile. It wasn’t precisely what he’d had in mind, but he couldn’t deny the sentiment behind it. “All right, Pads. Thank you. I love it. Put… it on me?”  
  
He still got to feel Sirius’ fingers at the back of his neck. He still got to feel the tight, reassuring grip of a collar around his throat. He still got to strip down to nothing but the collar and kneel at Sirius’ feet.   
  
But he also got to lie down in their bed with Sirius. He got to kiss Sirius’ lips and trail soft kisses down Sirius’ chin and neck, over the leather, to the nape of the neck. He got to fasten a clasp on both collars, linking them, tying them close together. He got to slip his fingers around Sirius’ collar and hold on firmly as he lifted his legs and took Sirius’ lovely thrusts in him.   
  
And he got to snuggle up in Sirius’ warm arms when it was over.


	5. Chapter 5

“Mr. Lupin? Collared werewolves stand a much better chance of being selected. But we understand it is a very personal choice. If you would like me to go over what a collar entails, I can certainly—“  
  
“Yes,” Remus heard himself whisper. “I mean, no, you don’t have to go through the details. Yes, I’ll wear a collar.”  
  
The Ministry official nodded and pointed to the form in front of him. “Fine. Sign there to indicate that, then.”   
  
With every signature, he signed his life away. With every signature, a little piece of his soul died. And when he was done, hundreds of signatures later, he was so numb and tired all he could think about was how glad he was that things were decided, that that part of his life was over and choice was completely eliminated now.   
  
“Now that you’re enrolled, you’ll need to be inspected.”   
  
Remus nodded obediently.   
  
The door opened and in walked an enormous man with a heavy black mustache. He was tall and broad shouldered. His Ministry name badge read:  _Waldon Macnair_. And his dark eyes were cold, unfeeling—just what Remus had expected from someone in his position.   
  
Remus started to rise, assuming he would be taken somewhere to be inspected, but one of the man’s strong hands reached out and took hold of his shoulder. The hand forced Remus back down into the chair. “Stay,” the man commanded firmly. So Remus stayed. And the woman who had interviewed him left the room. Remus could hear the door being locked behind her.   
  
“Undress,” the man said, staring down at Remus.   
  
Remus stood and began to take his clothes off.   
  
He had barely unbuckled his belt when Macnair grunted, “Too slow.”  
  
Remus was careful not to roll his yes, but the last thing he wanted was to have another grunting man on his hands.   
  
Macnair pulled a wand out and immediately vanished Remus’ clothes. Remus resisted the need to shiver, because he did not want to appear weak in front of anyone meant to evaluate him. So he stiffened up and held perfectly still as Macnair walked around him, inspecting.   
  
“How long did you work for Voldemort?” the man asked Remus, and when Remus looked astonished, the man moved closer, rounding on him. “How long?!”  
  
“Never!” Remus exclaimed. “I wasn’t one of those werewolves. I was on the side of good the whole—”  
  
Macnair hit him. It practically came out of nowhere and hit Remus on the side of his face in a hard sting of pain.   
  
“I swear!” Remus insisted. “You can use truth potions on me. You can ask the Order. That’s it! Ask Dumbledore! Or Moody! They know!”   
  
Another slap. Remus winced and put his hand up to his face. He backed away from Macnair, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He knew the ministry official didn’t have to believe him, but there was nothing more he could say to prove his case.   
  
The man grabbed him by the wrists and pulled his arms out. Piercing, black eyes moved up and down Remus’ arms, then up and down Remus’ whole body. “Fine,” he said at last. He released Remus. “We’ll move on to pushups then,” he announced, taking out a pocket watch. “As many as you can do in a minute. Now!”  
  
Remus made a paltry attempt at pushups. He didn’t do much better at lifting the chair Macnair had charmed to be heavier than it was supposed to be. And running in place was such an unnatural thing for Remus that, even though he had the stamina, he didn’t do very well at it. It all left him hot and sweaty, so when he was asked to stand again by the desk, he had to work to stand still again.  
  
Out came a measuring tape, which dangled from Remus’ head to foot. “Scrawny.” Then it measured around Remus’ middle. “Skinny, malnourished.” Remus felt hungry almost immediately at the mention. “And scarred.”   
  
“I’m a werewolf.”   
  
SLAP! The man’s large, open palm hit the side of Remus’ face a third time, adding a hard punch to the gut. And Remus, not the strongest he had ever been, nearly lost his footing from being struck. Hot tears sprang to his eyes but he looked up at the ceiling and blinked them back, taking only a second to block out the pains.   
  
“Good,” the man said. “We can work with that.” Macnair put a hand on Remus’ arse and squeezed. Then his hand slid around Remus’ waist and touched his crotch. The large, sweaty hand fondled Remus’ balls for a moment then took hold of Remus’ cock.   
  
Remus had been sure this wouldn’t be a standard inspection, but he hadn’t quite expected it to get this extreme this soon. Remus made himself grow hard at the touch, used to performing by now, and Macnair used the measuring tape there as well.  
  
“How are you on nonverbal spells, half-breed?”  
  
Remus tensed up and clenched his teeth. He supposed he would have to get used to being called that from now on. “I’m all right with them, if I had a wand.”   
  
Macnair smirked. “Then I’d better used one for lubrication. Now.”   
  
Remus felt the man’s hand, smack warm against his arse. He concentrated, thinking the spell just in time. Up went the man’s fist. And, oh Merlin it hurt. It wasn’t the worse Remus had ever had, that was for sure, but he was used to a little more warning and preparation before a major body part was thrust inside him. Fingers, hand, arm. Arm? How far in was the guy going to go? Pain shot through him, and it was all Remus could do to keep from crying out. He stayed silent, taking it, until the man gave up and pulled out. “Good,” was all Macnair said.  
  
Then, without further warning, he yanked his robes up and entered Remus. Remus stayed still, bracing himself on the desk in front of him. Then man pushed him down, smashing his face into the blotter and the forms. Remus hoped he didn’t wrinkle or sweat or come on the papers; the last thing he needed was to go through all that signing all over again.   
  
For all of Macnair’s build-up, he was surprisingly small and slow. It wasn’t that Remus had had better, because he obviously had. It was that almost everyone was better. This wasn’t really a fair inspection.   
  
Macnair huffed and thrust and finally cried out, spilling into Remus. He recovered, huffing, red-faced, and Remus wondered how the man kept up with this task of his if that sorry display had left him out of breath.   
  
Remus straightened up, feeling used, but used to feeling used. He waited patiently for the nod he eventually received from Macnair. “Acceptable.” Macnair pulled a crimson robe from the desk and threw it at Remus. “Dress.” Then he walked over to the door and knocked to be let out.   
  
Remus found himself alone in the room for a few seconds. He wished later that he had savored that moment.


	6. Chapter 6

Remus was ushered through a series of doors and fireplaces, finally arriving in a startlingly clinical establishment. Everything was spotless and bright white. In any other circumstance, Remus would have admired the cleanliness. As it was, the unnatural place made him nervous and uncomfortable. He supposed he’d have to get used to that. This was his home now, at least until he was chosen. There was a long white hallway, at the end of which sat a man reading a comic book with moving illustrations.  
  
The man looked up and shifted on his stool.   
  
“New one for you,” said Macnair, shoving Remus forward.  
  
“We’ll stick ‘im in with Jones and Franklin,” the man replied, glancing down the hall. “Unit eight.”  
  
Macnair gave Remus another shove. “You heard him. Number eight, half-breed.” Remus hesitated. “You can read, can’t you? Get a move on.”  
  
Remus walked down the hall, passing rooms on each side. The solid white walls gave way to nothingness. He could see clearly inside each of the rooms. The inhabitants all stared at him, inspecting him, sizing up their competition. Remus shivered in his bright red robes and hugged his arms to his chest. Self-conscious didn’t begin to describe how he felt now.   
  
He found the room with the number eight hanging over it and tried to go in. As he tried to enter the room, he was pushed back by some invisible barrier. He shouldn’t have been too surprised that there would be measures to keep the enrolled werewolves inside. Remus glanced over at the man with the comic, hoping for an indication of how he was supposed to get into his assigned room.  
  
Then he felt Macnair’s large, sweaty hands on him again, pushing him forward. The barrier resisted like a heavy weight against Remus’ front. But Macnair pushed and Remus broke through the heaviness, feeling relief as the weight lifted. Relief only lasted a few seconds, however, when he got a look at the room. There were two sets of bunk beds, a sink, and a toilet. That was all. It was little more than a cell at a muggle prison, though probably significantly more than what the prisoners of Azkaban got.   
  
As he listened to Macnair laugh, Remus plopped himself down on the bottom bunk of one of the beds. He wished he could just blend into his surroundings, but the scarlet red robes against the white frame, white mattress, white sheets, and white blanket couldn’t be missed. The other bed was occupied by two werewolves—the aforementioned Jones and Franklin, Remus deduced. The sheets were rumpled on both beds and the two were sitting so close them might as well have been sitting on top of each other. They both looked at Remus but didn’t say a word to him.   
  
It was clear Remus was going to be the odd man out in this arrangement, but that point was driven home not an hour later when a bell rang. Remus jumped up, startled, and looked across the hall at the other rooms he could see people lining up, trying to make themselves presentable, and standing at attention. The watchman from before was the one who called out, “Look alive, fellas. New owner coming through.”   
  
Remus looked up to see a tall man with lamb chop sideburns making his way down the hall. This was Remus’ chance to escape this dreadful existence before it could get to him, so Remus stood straight and wore a kind smile.   
  
Not everyone simply stood there, waiting to be inspected in their robes. Some of them cozied up to others, showing how physically affectionate they could be. Remus saw one turn and bend, striking a pose that showed what an incredible arse he had. Remus noticed two werewolves kissing rather passionately, showing their passion and skills. And he saw one slide down to the floor and do the splits to demonstrate flexibility. Remus’ roommates went above and beyond. They lay together on the bottom bunk of the bed Remus had not been sitting on.   
  
Their hands raced up and down their naked bodies, fondling, squeezing, tweaking. They put on one hell of a show, rubbing each other hard in mere seconds. Remus was pretty good at having an erection on demand, but this was frankly incredible. They went from just sitting around to full-out hot and heavy in the blink of an eye. Remus couldn’t help but watch. He knew it would be a good idea to look interested in the potential owner, but it was also difficult to ignore the fucking happening not a meter away from him. He wondered how many times these two had done this.  
  
The taller and darker of the two roommates took on a more dominant role, but both surprisingly acted like subs—hot little subs in need of punishment, or so it looked like. They kissed and nuzzled, their hands still touching everything and everywhere, naughty expressions on their faces. There was even spanking.   
  
Suddenly, the shorter, blonder of the two gasped and reared back, arching his back, showing his body clearly as he shot a slick fountain of come. He reached out, sliding a few fingers up the other man’s arse, making him come as well. Remus stared, half amazed and half embarrassed for them. It was like a badly done muggle porno without the goofy soundtrack. And, yet, they did look rather good just then, glistening as white droplets rolled down their chests and stomachs. When one of the men bent down to lick the other one clean, Remus looked away. That was simply too much.  
  
He was pleased to see that the new potential owner looked away as well. Remus watched the man walk up and down the hall several times before selecting the werewolf with the fine arse. Remus hoped they would be very happy together. He returned to his bed, trying to ignore the unavoidable, post-coital smells in the tiny space.


	7. Chapter 7

The place was called “The Market” and it was clear to see why. There were five floors in the building, Remus learned: one for straight women, one for straight men, one for gay women, one for gay men, and one for wizards and witches who swung both ways. Prospective buyers were screened (though Remus suspected it was nothing compared to the paces they’d put him through) and then led to the proper floor.   
  
The Market was a place that killed you little by little. It didn’t break you all at once to be a werewolf, thrown into bondage and servitude, and it didn’t even try to. It was as if the Ministry couldn’t even be bothered; people who came to claim a werewolf made their purchases and took their chances. There was a variety of werewolves to choose from. The ones who had been around the longest had dead eyes and moved around automatically, entirely senseless and blank. The newer ones, like Remus, were scared and rebellious, angry at the fates that had caused them to land there. The ones in-between were more dangerous, because they were anxious and desperate to get chosen. Remus’ roommates (who couldn’t remotely compare to his roommates at Hogwarts) were in the third camp—highly emotional, rough, but hopeless.   
  
It didn’t take long for Remus to settle into a routine. There was a morning breakfast protein bar, then hours of sitting around staring at the walls. Lunch consisted of another bar, some buttered bread, and a fruit or vegetable (both, if you looked cute enough when the keepers came by to feed you). This was followed by more fascinating nothingness. If you wanted to risk the pain of the barrier, you could visit others in their rooms; Remus hadn’t made any friends and had no reason to think he ever would here. What he wanted was a nice book to kept pass the time. Instead, he rested or went through a series of pushups or sit ups to keep his body active. Mostly, he daydreamed and wondered if he would ever be chosen. Dinner was far more substantial—usually chicken or steak and several sides; it was never quality food, but it was enough to fill his stomach and send him off to sleep for the night. At night, he heard sounds he hadn’t heard since early adolescence back in Hogwarts. There was urgent huffing and gasping. There was the creak of bedsprings and muttering. There was even thrashing and yelling. And crying. Lots of crying. Remus wished he had his wand just so he could use a silencing charm. It was always a race to fall asleep before the sounds began.  
  
Every day a handful of wizards came by to inspect them and select one (or two, in one wizard’s case) to collar and take home. Usually the ones chosen were the ones showing off. Maybe buyers liked their bodies or maybe they did something in their desperation that Remus could duplicate. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to adopt his roommates’ strategy of fucking every time that bell rang to signal a lineup was forthcoming. If Remus didn’t know any better, he’d think the two men cared for each other, the way they shagged like rabbits at the drop of a hat. He wondered what would happen if one got chose and the other didn’t; a few potential owners selected two werewolves instead of just one, but the likelihood was small. Remus thought that they were probably decreasing their odds rather than increasing them.  
  
Remus’ first close call happened about a week and a half since his first day in the Market. He was standing casually in the lineup, just like all times before, and a man walked by him, eyeing him. A few seconds later, the man glanced back at Remus, turned on his heels, and went back for a second, closer look. He reached out and touched the side of Remus’ neck. “Hello there.”   
  
Remus had nodded, knowing by now that most of the potential owners didn’t like werewolves to speak to them. Some wanted a werewolf for work (Remus supposed those were people who didn’t like ever-cheerful house elves). Some wanted a werewolf for sex. And most wanted one for both reasons. Remus had stood there, wondering which this owner was.   
  
“Do you want to come home with me?” asked the potential owner.  
  
Remus had given him another nod and raised him a smile.   
  
The man had smiled back. “I’ll keep you in mind.”  
  
But he hadn’t returned. He’d found someone else better—maybe someone younger or sexier or tougher or bigger or anything. It could have been anything. But it wasn’t Remus.   
  
Not everyone lined up when the bell went off. Some of the werewolves preferred to sleep or took one look at the potential owner and decided they weren’t compatible. And some of the werewolves were beyond believing they’d ever be chosen.   
  
There was a whole variety of potential owners, and Remus enjoyed not knowing who would show up next. But there was one man he wasn’t prepared to see walk through the door: Severus Snape.  
  
Snape practically swaggered down the hall, his piercing eyes seeing everything and apparently not pleased with what he saw. When he got to Remus’ room, he paused, eyes opening in recognition. Remus looked away so Snape wouldn’t see the shame in his eyes. They had been equals once; in fact, Remus had bested him on several occasions both academically and with the help of a prank or two from the Marauders. And now Snape was here, looking to get his rocks off with a filthy werewolf.   
  
“Lupin,” Snape uttered, and then moved on without another word or look.   
  
Remus sunk down onto his bed, feeling weak and shaky. If someone who knew him, someone Dumbledore said worked on the side of good before the end of the war, wouldn’t free him from this place, what hope did he have? He wanted to call out to Snape, to plead his case, to explain. But then he saw Snape walking past without a care and with a grin, leading a werewolf out with his thumb hooked around the ring of the werewolf’s collar.   
  
Remus closed his eyes and saw all those pranks anew. He saw the hurt and anger in Snape’s eyes. And he remembered how he hadn’t stopped one of them. He didn’t deserve Snape, and he knew it. He didn’t deserve anyone.  
  
“I’ll take you.” Remus looked up, startled, thinking at first that Snape had come back for him. But it wasn’t Snape. It was a slight, blond man in glasses. And those eyes, even through the thick lenses, were looking right at Remus. “Will you wear my collar?”  
  
It was such a stupid question to ask—as if Remus had any choice? Remus stood and walked over, bowing his head. “I will,” he said. They were the last words he would speak for three whole days.


	8. Chapter 8

Remus felt his new owner shudder and spill his seed with a cry. Remus held still until the man finished and pulled out. Then Remus turned and opened his arms, letting the man snuggle in. Remus held his still-shaking owner with one arm while he picked up a cloth and wiped him off. The lube his owner had purchased was thicker than what Remus was used to and, when combined with come, it took some time to wipe them both clean from the stickiness. By then, his owner had fallen asleep in his arms. Remus removed the man’s glasses so they wouldn’t get broken, slipping them off his face gently.   
  
His owner’s name was Linus Wilkins, and Remus had only gleaned that piece of information after seeing his name on some mail an owl delivered. He had also guessed that his owner had been a virgin up until 6 hours ago.   
  
In Remus’ capacity as a rentboy, he had encountered a few young men looking to lose their virginity the quick and easy way. Remus wondered why Linus had felt it necessary to do so with a werewolf and not some prostitute. More to the point, he wondered why Linus hadn’t just gone out to pick up some random bloke, because he looked pretty sweet. Surely he could find someone to cop off with if he tried.   
  
Maybe he had a thing for werewolves. Or maybe he had a thing for men in collars. Maybe both.  
  
Remus sat up straight so he could see his reflection in the mirror on the dresser, across from the bed. He had to admit it looked good on him, even if it wasn’t the kind of collar he had once fantasized about. The werewolf collars from the Ministry were highly charmed, magical objects. This one kept Remus from Apparating, to start with. But it also restricted his use of any magical spells. Even if he managed to steal his owner’s wand, it would do no good. Moreover, it kept him from communicating. All right, he could manage hand signals if there were something important to convey such as “I’m going to die of thirst. I need water” or “Your house is on fire.” But he was unable to speak and unable to write.   
  
It was the strangest feeling, really, to suddenly be unable to speak. He had tested it with a whisper, then a normal word, and then a scream. But all that came out in each instance was silence.  
  
No time was it more noticeable than when he was having sex with his owner. His owner had been whimpering and moaning, and Remus had been forced to be silent. His owner had cried and uttered such dirty things, and Remus had been forced to be silent. His owner had even asked him questions, but Remus had been forced to be silent. It was strange and unnatural, and Remus wasn’t at all used to it yet. But at least it kept him from saying something he might regret in the heat of the moment. There were certainly worse men he could have ended up with as his owner than Linus.  
  
Linus might be quite new at this, but he wasn’t all that bad. He needed gentle guidance and reassurance along the way. He needed Remus to guide him and let him know what he was doing was correct and working. His thrusts were phenomenal. His touch was soft. And he was completely devoid of grunts.   
  
Remus knew better than to get attached to anyone, but he could see himself in this relationship for a long while. He was sure he would never love the man—not the way he had loved Sirius Black—but in time the way he petted and held Linus after sex might actually come from emotion and not requirement. In time, he might end up having sex with the man not because it was his job but because he genuinely enjoyed it.   
  
Stirring in his arms, Linus woke. He looked up at Remus and smiled. “Hello there. How long was I out?” Remus shrugged and eased the man up to a sitting position.   
  
Linus stretched and gave a hearty, body-rattling yawn. Then he spread his legs. “I think my cock could use some waking up.”   
  
Remus agreed by opening his mouth and bending over. Linus gasped the second Remus’ wet tongue circled the tip of his cock. Remus smiled, wishing he could remember precisely the sensation of his first blow job. All he remembered was that Sirius had made him feel more amazing than he thought he could feel. It was up to Remus to get Linus to that very place.   
  
Remus reached out for Linus’ hand, guiding it to his own sandy hair. If he could have talked, he would have instructed Linus to direct his head as desired, but Linus figured it out, fingers burrowing in. Remus’ head bobbed up and down in a slow, steady rhythm. Every so often, Linus thrust upward, using Remus’ mouth. But, mostly, Linus sat there and let Remus work his magic. Remus’ wet tongue lapped, stroked, circled. Remus sucked and hummed and, when Linus finally came, Remus swallowed.   
  
“Amazing!” Linus exclaimed. “I want… ah…” He closed his eyes and put his palm to his face. Remus could see the look of embarrassment on his face around and between his spread fingers. “I want you to do that again as soon as possible. I want so much more of that. So good. So very, very good.”   
  
Smirking, Remus stretched out with his head in the man’s lap. As soon as his cock regained some energy, Remus would repeat the ministrations.


	9. Chapter 9

It took Remus a moment to catch his breath after that one. He and Sirius had done some seriously kinky things in their time together, but they had never tried it in a swing magically suspended from the ceiling—who would have thought of doing that? Well, Linus, apparently. 

“You all right?” Linus seemed out of breath as well, but he was grinning from ear to ear; apparently Remus had done something right. 

Remus nodded in answer, glad his collar gave him that much ability to communicate. The sex was good and it was Linus’ right as the owner to demand anything of him. But Remus had no idea what the hour was or even what day it was. Most importantly, he was starting to get quite hungry. “Good,” Linus said. Then, “how about we raid the fridge?”

Thankfully, Remus’ stomach chose that particular moment to rumble, btu he nodded again so Linus wouldn’t miss how much he wanted food.

They headed down the hall and stairs, making a few turns Remus wouldn’t have anticipated, given the brief glimpse of the house he had received upon arrival. Perhaps the layout was magical and the configuration kept changing. Or perhaps the house was larger on the inside than the outside. Most likely, Remus wasn’t as good with special relations as he had supposed. 

The kitchen was gigantic. It could easily have fit four of Remus’ old flats into it and still have had room for an ice cream counter on one side. Cupboards lines the walls forever in either direction, varying in size and shape, depending on what was being stored inside. There were two stoves and a fireplace to boot. Remus’ attention was also drawn to the sea of copper pots and pans hanging from a rack on the ceiling. Not a lot of wizards went for modern conveniences like these, but this one obviously did. The only thing the kitchen seemed to lack was a refrigerator. Remus looked around for it, but he couldn’t locate it until Linus walked right over to a cupboard and opened it up to reveal a cleverly disguised fridge. A gust of cold air rushed out of the fridge when it opened and Linus shivered as it washed over him. 

Feeling protective about the man he had spent so much time already making happy, Remus went over and pressed himself to Linus’ bare back. He rubbed the man’s upper arms and chest, and he reached down to give Linus’ cold-shriveled dick a few rubs.

Naturally, Linus smiled and looked over his shoulder. “Knew there was a reason I chose you.” He tiled his head toward the open fridge. “What do you feel like eating? Roast beef and veg? Steak and eggs? See anything you like?”

It didn’t take Remus one second to see what he wanted. Everything looked good to him—healthy, substantial, filling. But what he instinctively pointed at was nothing of the sort. 

Linus followed the direction of Remus’ finger and his gaze and chuckled He reached forward for a bottle of chocolate sauce. “This isn’t much of a meal,” he said. But Remus looked so longingly at the bottle he kept it out. “All right.” 

Remus couldn’t help it—the prospect of having chocolate was too much—he kissed Linus’ cheek in appreciation.

“Well, well. A werewolf after my own heart. But you can’t just have chocolate sauce.” He pulled a drawer out at the middle of the fridge and took out a container of strawberries. The he went over to the counter to the left of the fridge and retrieved a few bananas. Next, he searched through a cupboard for a bag of marshmallows. “How’s this for starters?”

Remus nodded enthusiastically, getting the message, though he still eyed the cholate sauce with great desire. Whatever the man had in mind was find, so long as he got some chocolate. It had been entirely too long since his last taste of chocolate. 

* * * * *  
Flashback- October 25, 1981

Remus’ ears perked up at the sound of a wrapper rustling. His head whipped around to see Peter with a small bag of candy he was supposed to be setting aside for trick-or-treaters. Peter was helping himself to a small chocolate nut bar. Mouth full, Peter gave Remus a shrug. Quickly, he chewed and swallowed. “I won’t tell Sirius if you don’t.” 

Remus considered this for a second, then dug into the bag with Peter. Knowing how it would look to have a half-filled bag, the best thing to do was to just eat it all. Without thinking, he gorged on chocolate. Some was dark and paired with mint or orange or—in one case—raspberry. Some came with chewy caramel or chunky almonds. And some was simply creamy and sweet and delicious. He let every bit of it linger a moment on his tongue, enjoying the tastes even as he reached for a new piece. 

When he stomach started to ache, he slowed down but didn’t stop. Soon, he and Peter had polished off a whole bag of chocolates. They sat together on a loveseat, amidst a hundred wrappers. He felt he might burst if he tried to eat just one more piece of chocolate, but it had tasted so good it was worth it. He closed his eyes and rested a hand on his tummy. He sighed deeply and then let his breathing slow. Maybe a nap would be a good idea just about now. And when he woke up he would finish gathering up the things to take over to James and Lily’s place.

“Merlin’s pants!”

Remus opened just one of his eyes. Sirius stood there in front of them, eyes wide.

“Whoops,” said Peter. “Busted.” 

“I cannot believe you two. James and Lily asked us to do one thing and I come back from getting the groceries to find you like this? What were you thinking eating so much chocolate? This was for the kids who visit us next week. Why in the world would—”

The rest of his rant was cut short. Remus had stood, grabbed the neck of his shirt, pulled him close, and snogged him hard. Sirius seemed surprised at first, but then gave in. And even when Peter cleared his throat, uncomfortable at so much snogging right in front of him, Remus didn’t let up. 

* * * * * 

Linus lay naked on the center island in the kitchen, a pool of chocolate sauce on his stomach. At first, Remus dipped the fruit and marshmallows into the chocolate. Linus grinned as he watched Remus snack on the sweets. But pretty soon Remus wasn’t satisfied with just a few little tastes of chocolate. He set the other things aside, briefly considering stuffing a banana in Linus’ mouth to keep him quiet while he ate, and then began lapping at the chocolate. His tongue separated the chocolate from the man’s warm skin, lick by lick. The man shuddered at each touch, wet and rough. 

It was a race to see if he could clean off all the chocolate before Linus came from the sensations. The chocolate was so good that Remus was sure he wouldn’t stop even then, but he preferred his chocolate to be sweet not salty. Remus opened his mouth, eating around Linus’ naval. His tongue darted down toward the sensitive skin, not tickling but stimulating.

“Ohhh…” Linus moaned. “So good.” That seemed to be Linus’ catchphrase when he was incredibly turned on. Remus had lost count of how many times they had had sex, but nearly every time had included that line. Remus couldn’t answer and didn’t want to stop eating chocolate to smile. As he licked, he blindly reached out and cupped Linus’ balls, squeezing tightly. Not yet. There were still a few smudges of chocolate around Linus’ right nipple, and Remus took care to lick around it before licking it. Linus gasped excitedly as the tip of Remus’ tongue flicked Linus’ nipple into an excited, hard little nub. 

Remus released his grip and began massaging gently. It only took a few strokes of his hand before Linus came spectacularly. And, as Linus cried out in pleasure, Remus’ stomach rumbled again with hunger.


	10. Chapter 10

After three days of almost nonstop sex, Remus was fairly sure his new owner was not a pureblood. The kitchen had been quite a visible clue, but there was also the matter of the battery-operated vibrators. Not many pureblood wizards understood about batteries… or vibrators, for that matter.   
  
Not that Remus was complaining. There were worse people that he could have had as his owner. This one was sweet. This one was respectful. This one was tickling his nether regions with the tip of a bright blue phallus. Remus loved how gentle a touch Linus had. He actually felt genuinely aroused as the vibrator caressed his balls and cock. He had spent so much time pleasing others during the past few months it was nice to have someone take care of him for a change.   
  
The vibrations made tingles shoot through from his crotch upward. It was warm, jittery excitement, like something wriggling in him, taking him over, wanting out. And when he looked over, he saw Linus biting his lip. “Do you like that, werewolf?”   
  
Remus had just about forgotten what it was like to enjoy sex. And he couldn’t say “so good” to Linus, but he did smile and nod. He hoped that wasn’t the signal for Linus to stop. The last thing he wanted right now from his owner was teasing and games. He wanted his own orgasm… and he wanted Linus to bring it on.   
  
Remus looked up at Linus, with those soft eyes and bright blond hair. He looked so innocent, so sweet.   
  
Suddenly, Linus pulled the dildo back and Remus jerked at the hips, wildly thrusting upward at the sensation that was now gone. He grasped at the sheets beneath him, wanting it back, wanting to come. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine it back.   
  
“How about another, then?” The man pulled out a smaller, finger vibrator and some lube. He slicked up the dildo, turned it on, and eased it up Remus’ arse. And with the smaller vibrator on, he stroked Remus’ cock again. Remus cried out, though no sound escaped him. He whimpered silently. All noise was gone, but his thrusts spoke for themselves. His body screamed for him, screamed out to Linus, screamed for release. Every wiggle, every thrust, every arch of his back, every toe curl—they all said desire.   
  
And Linus seemed to love it. Little Linus. Young Linus. Newly un-virginized Linus. The man was getting off on controlling Remus. And Remus… didn’t mind one bit. Even if he had been in a position to say anything, the only thing he would have said was “more.”  
  
The desire built and built, the fiery urge owning him. Remus closed his eyes and, a second later, he came. His cock throbbed with the release. The whole world spun around him as the vibrations magnified the sensation. It felt like the whole world was his again. It felt like he had a place once more.   
  
* * * * *   
  
Remus hadn’t fallen asleep, but it had taken a few long minutes to recover. Apparently, the same could be said for Linus. He looked over at his owner, conked out on the bed beside him. Remus wasn’t sure what to do. He thought perhaps he should said for Linus to wake up. But then he caught a whiff of himself and looked down to see the mess of lube and come drying on his skin.   
  
Remus hauled himself out of bed to go find a shower. They’d had sex in a new room this time—a guest bedroom, from the look of it. The mansion had so many different rooms and the hallway was just door after door. Remus tried one to find a linen closet, where he picked up a towel. He tried another to find a game room. The third one he tried turned out to be an enormous room. Thinking there must be a bathroom attached to such a large bedroom, he ventured in.   
  
The room was elegant, classy. But it still had that lived-in, warm feeling. The bed looked so soft with a feather comforter and a whole sea of comfy pillows. Just as Remus was wondering why they had never had sex there before, he noticed a photo on the nightstand.   
  
It was of a beautiful woman. In the photo, she stood there, laughing and waving at the camera. Remus turned, as if expecting to see her somewhere in the room. He did. Or at least, he saw another sign of her. There was a photo on the dresser on the far wall of the room, picturing the woman with a little boy, mud smeared across his face, running circles around her. Next to that was a photo of Linus holding two young children—both blond and adorable—on his lap. And then, the last photo on the dresser, showed Linus and the woman together. He was in fine dress robes and she wore a white, lace wedding dress. There was no mistaking it: it was a wedding photo.  
  
So Linus had been married. Moreover, Linus had had a family. What had happened to them? Remus still hadn’t figured out the house, and there were probably hundreds of rooms he hadn’t yet seen, but he was pretty sure that this woman and these two children weren’t hiding out in the house somewhere. Had they left? Or had they died? The war; it was probably the war. So many families had been broken by it. And Linus had probably lost his family in it just as Remus had lost his pack.   
  
Remus picked up the wedding photo of Linus and the woman, tears filling his eyes. Linus looked so happy in the photo, just as happy as he’d looked the first time Remus had made him come.   
  
A surprised gasp came from the direction of the door and Remus swung around to see Linus there. Remus had been prepared to somehow convey his sympathies. He had planned on embracing Linus and holding him tight in empathy. But once he saw the expression on Linus’ face, Remus knew that would be a mistake.   
  
“I wish you hadn’t seen that.” Linus stormed across the room and grabbed the photo from Remus. “They’re not getting back into town until tonight. I thought we’d have a few more love-making sessions before that.” He sighed and set the photo back down on the dresser, angling it carefully so it was just as it had been. “You’d better take a shower before I take you back to the Market. I’ll get a better trade-in price for you if you’re clean.” He put his hand on Remus’ back and pushed him toward the master bathroom Remus had been looking for in the first place.


	11. Chapter 11

Remus was escorted down the bright, white hallway as if he had forgotten his way. The guard pushed him into room eight, the heavy boundary pushing at him for a second, though Remus barely felt it. For three days, he’d been away from the Market. To return at all was painful. But to return to precisely where he’d come from was almost unbearable. He almost wished he’d been able to keep the collar, so that his roommates wouldn’t hear him if he cried. After three days of wearing nothing but the collar, he felt naked now without it.   
  
Naturally, both of his previous roommates were there in the cell, along with another werewolf he hadn’t met before. “Well, well. Look who’s back,” said the tall one. Remus didn’t care for his tone one bit.  
  
“Returned already? You must have been a shitty lay,” laughed the blond one.   
  
The new one ignored his presence completely.  
  
Remus shook his head, feeling sick to his stomach. “Actually, I—”  
  
“What’s the matter, pet?” the blond one spoke. “Did you think Linus was going to adopt you? Did you think you had found your forever home?” He laughed heartily and fell back on his bed. “What kind of kinkiness was he into this time?”   
  
“Let me guess,” said the tall one, sitting back on his bunk and looking thoughtful. “He put you in the swing, didn’t he?” Remus didn’t want to answer, but he couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah, I taught him that.”  
  
“You did not, you big liar!” exclaimed the tall one, who curled up on the bunk with his head in the blonde one’s lap. “I taught it to him.”   
  
“Did not.”  
  
“Did too!”  
  
“Boys, boys!” the new one interrupted. “Without a doubt,  _I_  taught it to him.”   
  
Remus sat down on the bottom bunk, feeling foolish. He started to say something but his voice rebelled. Not used to speaking, he had to clear his throat a few times before it cooperated with him in a hoarse sort of way. “How many werewolves has Linus taken?”  
  
“No way to know,” said the tall one. “Somewhere between twenty and thirty, I reckon. I’ve been in the program since the beginning and he comes in every time the wife and kids are out of town. Kind of have to feel sorry for the guy.”  
  
“I didn’t feel too sorry for him when he was kicking me out and bringing me back here,” Remus croaked. He fingered his neck where the collar was no longer.   
  
“Let me get you some warm water. That’ll help a little.” He jumped down from the top bunk, above Remus’ head and filled a cup with tap water. “I’m Rolf, by the way.”  
  
“Remus,” said Remus, taking the cup with a nod of thank you.   
  
Rolf went on. “And I bet those two haven’t bothered to introduce themselves. That’s Aaron on his back there and Benji petting his head like he was a pet.”  
  
“He is,” Benji insisted. “He’s  _my_  pet.”   
  
“Don’t I know it,” Aaron answered. With a dreamy, contented expression on his face, he closed his eyes. “Besides, what’s the point introducing ourselves? The merchandise is constantly changing around here.”   
  
Rolf walked over and ruffled Arraon’s hair, making Benji start all over again to smooth it out. “Because if we don’t take care of each other, no one else will. Certainly not the Ministry, that’s for damn sure.” Rolf helped himself to a spot beside Remus on the other lower bunk. “Oh, they might think they’re doing us a favor here, keeping us, feeding us, making us useful to, well, select parts of society. But you’ve got to remember they’re still using us. They get money for selling us. Glorified, official pimps, that’s what they are. The only ones who’ll look after us is us. Right boys?”  
  
Benji and Aaron both nodded. And as Remus nodded as well, he felt Rolf’s hand slide onto his thigh. Remus shuddered. What was it with Unit Eight werewolves? Remus didn’t see any of the werewolves in other cells getting all horny. Or perhaps it was just that these ones were bad at hiding their actions.  
  
Rolf’s touch was firm—not at all like Linus’—and the hand slid over to rub Remus’ crotch through the startlingly crimson robes. Just one heavy rub was all it took for Remus’ cock to stir and a second one made it stiffen.   
  
Just as Remus was trying to decide whether to push him away or not, a bell rang.   
  
“Owner coming through. Be on your best behavior, canines,” barked the official.   
  
This sent Aaron and Benji into action, naturally. They gyrated on the bed together, shaking the rickety wooden frame and filling the quiet with their gasps and pants.   
  
Remus looked over to see a familiar face. He got to his feet and walked to the edge of the room. “Severus,” he called.  
  
The man turned his head and stared at him. He paused for a few moments, as if he might say something or might even collar Remus. But all he said was a solid, monotone “Lupin.” Then he turned his sights on another werewolf.  
  
Remus didn’t have a chance to even sit down before the bell rang again. This time, a woman walked in. Remus had never seen a woman at the Market who was a prospective owner. She seemed to have a type, this one, or at least someone in mind, because she caught a glimpse of Remus and went straight for him.   
  
“Like I said, Miss Angelica, these ones are only attracted to men.”  
  
“I know,” she said. Her voice was sweet, tiny, and almost child-like. “I just want one for the household chores and things.” She stepped forward, close to the barrier, and held up a gold collar. “Will you wear my collar?”  
  
Remus looked back at the others in Unit Eight. Benji and Aaron would certainly not miss him. But Rolf looked sad, as if he expected Remus to completely buy that bit about how werewolves had to take care of each other. He didn’t want to alienate them, but he didn’t feel any tie to them either. And the prospect of having an owner not into it for the sex for a change was great. “I accept.”


	12. Chapter 12

In one word, his new position was humiliating. In two words, it was utterly humiliating. His new owner, Miss Angelica, seemed to have her magical creatures confused. Last he checked, he was a werewolf and  _not_  a house elf. Yet, Miss Angelica had dressed him up in a giant pillowcase and had ordered him to clean anything and everything in sight. It was true servitude, without the eagerness to serve.  
  
In the morning he woke before dawn and fixed breakfast. There was dusting and tidying to be done as she ate, then he moved on to washing the dishes and scrubbing the floors. He cleaned until he had to make lunch. Then he did laundry, because she liked clean sheets on her bed every single night. She demanded a special tea service at tea time, and Merlin forbid he not use the right colored china on the right day of the week. Dinner was an extravagant affair he had to spend hours working on from the cooking and the place settings to the serving and the cleaning up. Every night he had to draw her a bubble bath and see to her needs as she lounged there, requesting sweets or music. He had to towel her off when she was finished in the bath and put her to bed. After he tucked her in at the end of the day, he had to finish cleaning the mess from dinner and put away the good china.   
  
At first, Remus had liked the repetition. It was comforting to do hard work and know what to expect from it. But after nearly a week, he was exhausted and hating this placement. He wondered if any collared werewolves had ever left an owner. The collar, he knew, prohibited him from doing speaking out, from doing magic, and committing acts of violence, but he wondered if the collar would have a problem with him simply walking out on her.  
  
Of course, that would make him leave the program with the Ministry and once he left there was no going back. He would still have to pay the exorbitant fines each month for being a registered werewolf, which would mean landing a high-paying job. As the likelihood of that was so small, he wore the damn pillowcase and served her lemon cookies whenever she wanted. He was coming up on a week with her, and in only a few days it would be the full moon. He needed a secure place to transform and wasn’t sure he would have that with Miss Angelica. She was high maintenance and proper and it wasn’t as though she seemed to show any affection for him.  
  
But then something happened that changed everything.   
  
He drew Miss Angelica’s bath and added the bubbles, just like all the nights before. She entered the bathroom in a bathrobe, just like on the nights before. And she slipped naked into the claw-footed tub, just like on the nights before. Tonight, however, she had a bottle of wine with her that was already half empty. Or half full. But probably half empty. “My handsome werewolf,” she said dreamily, gazing at Remus. “Stay with me.”  
  
Remus could not disobey an order so blatantly given. And, a moment later, he was glad of it. She slid beneath the water and didn’t come up again. Seconds passed. Remus began to worry. More seconds passed. And finally he reached in, found her, and pulled upward. At first, she did not move, and terror rushed through Remus. He could just imagine what would happen to him if he were found with a dead owner. She coughed and spat out water and glowed with appreciation even before she had caught her breath. “My… hero.”  
  
He rolled his eyes, but she reached up from the tub and kissed him.   
  
Remus wanted badly to push her away. He fought against the kiss as much as he could, while still holding her up above the water and not offending his new owner. It was the second kiss he’d ever received from a girl—well, a woman, really—and he hated the feeling. He had kissed hundreds of men he cared nothing for, but kissing men was comfortable, natural. This just felt wrong. Moreover, she was a woman who owned him and who was obviously inebriated and caught up with crazy emotions.   
  
She pulled back, still out of breath, beaming at him. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel that. You’re not really gay, right?” She rose up a little out of the tub. “Oh, you might say you are but once you see me, kiss me, touch me, you’ll see what you’re missing.” She rose up more, showing him her large but perky breasts. “Don’t you want me?”  
  
Remus didn’t think he had ever wanted anyone less in his whole life. Even Grunting Man was looking good in comparison. Sure she was gorgeous, but she wasn’t a man. And breasts—perky or otherwise—weren’t doing it for him.  
  
Miss Angelica took a few gulps of wine straight from the bottle then climbed out of her tub. Naked, wet, and dripping, she threw herself into Remus’ arms. She rubbed her body against his, her hands sliding beneath the pillowcase to touch him. Her delicate, lengthy fingers caressed him. The warmth made his skin tingle, there was no denying that. But even with his eyes closed and thoughts of a good, trusted Sirius in his mind, he couldn’t get it up. He tried to imagine it was a man’s hand stroking him. He remembered that mischievous look in Sirius’ eyes when he wanted Remus. He pictured the man of his dreams looking after him, taking care of his needs. Deep down, though, he knew this was different. And he didn’t want it. He couldn’t even trick himself into wanting it.   
  
His lips formed the words ‘I’m sorry’ but no sound could come out with the collar in place. He repeated them over and over again, tears springing to his eyes. Finally Miss Angelica looked up and read his lips.   
  
Then she shoved him. She shoved him so hard he fell back against the cold tile floor. She stood over him, dripping onto him. “You’re pathetic,” she said.   
  
Handsome to pathetic in ten minutes. Remus supposed that must be some sort of record.   
  
“First thing in the morning, I’m taking you back to the Market. If I explain you’re broken, maybe I’ll get a discount on a new werewolf.” She glared at him. “Where’s my towel?”


	13. Chapter 13

Remus figured he shouldn’t have been too surprised about Aaron and Benji. There wasn’t much to do during the days except sit in the room and wait for the meals. You had to make your own fun, if you wanted fun, and just about the only option available was to take yourself in hand or ask one of your roommates to do it for you. He rather envied the way his two roommates could enjoy themselves in these circumstances. Remus wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the Market.   
  
When he was there, he wanted out so desperately, hoping a home with an owner would be a better existence. But both of his experiences with owners had gone badly in the end. Maybe that was his fault. Maybe he was broken, just as Miss Angelica had claimed.  
  
Remus heard the footsteps and wasn’t sure he wanted to even lift his head to see the visiting owner. The black shoes stopped in front of Unit Eight, however, and Remus looked up. This time, he didn’t waste time. “Please, Severus. I’m so sorry for what happened in the past, you have to believe me. You have to help me.”   
  
Snape looked down his hooked nose at Remus. “Lupin,” he said sharply, admonishingly. Then he turned to go.   
  
“Wait!” Remus got up and darted out, braving the hurt of the heavy barrier to do it. Desperation raced through him. Whatever Snape was doing with these werewolves he came for had to be better than the first two owners who had selected Remus. Remus called out to him, “Please, I’ll do anything.” But Snape was moving down the hall, snagging any old werewolf on his way out instead of Remus.   
  
“Anything, hmm?” Remus turned to see a large man in a velvet smoking jacket. “I’ll take you, if you really mean it.”   
  
Remus felt sick to his stomach as he accepted the man’s collar.   
  
* * * * *     
  
“If you please me,” the new owner said, walking Remus through the house, “you will receive rewards and privileges. Do you like to read, Remus?” He opened a door to reveal the largest personal library Remus had ever seen. It was almost the size of the one in Hogwarts, except these weren’t even school books. They weren’t even all wizarding books; Remus recognized handfuls of names belonging to muggle writers. He saw some titles he knew quite well, but he saw more books that were brand new to him. He longed to sit down then and there and devour books one after another as if they were chocolates.   
  
The man moved on, showing Remus to a game room, a music room, a sun porch, a green house, and a conservatory. There was a bathroom with a tub so big Remus could have gone swimming in it. And there was interesting art everywhere on the walls, making the place look warm and homey.   
  
His owner wasn’t much to look at. He was large around the middle and his two chins seemed to be searching for his neck, only to have found a third chin in the process. He was short and balding on top, with two ridiculous dark brown tufts of hair on either side of his head it looked like he was planning to grow out so he could comb them over. He reminded Remus a bit of his old Potions professor, only Slughorn had had a prominent walrus moustache and had been golden-haired.   
  
Remus didn’t even know the name of his owner the first time sex was demanded of him. He had only been in the household a few hours and apart from being required to walk around in jeans and his collar only, the only demand made of him had been to prepare a small snack.   
  
Cooking had never been Remus’ forte. Luckily, Miss Angelica had not had a problem with that part of his performance. But it seemed a small snack in Remus’ new owner’s book was not herbal tea, cucumber sandwiches, and lemon cream finger cookies.   
  
“This is just about enough for a mouse to eat!” his new owner roared, picking up one of the small cookies and then dropping it back on the platter as if it were entirely inedible. “In fact, why don’t you serve it to the mice? Get that tray, werewolf.”   
Remus obeyed, trying to keep his hands from shaking noticeably.   
  
“Down on the floor!” the owner yelled. He smacked Remus hard on the back of his thighs with a wand, making Remus wobble. Remus took a knee, regaining his balance, and then bent the other leg so he was kneeling on the floor. He set the tray down, looking longingly at the food.   
  
The man repeated slapped his wand against his open palm as he circled Remus, inspecting Remus’ form. The sound echoed in the cavernous, high-ceilinged sitting room. Each SMACK made Remus a little more nervous than the one before. Finally the man stopped in front of him, avoiding stepping on the tray. “Open your mouth. I want to use you.”   
  
Knowing he didn’t have a choice, Remus closed his eyes and opened his mouth.   
  
THWACK! The wand struck Remus’ arse hard, making him sit up straighter. His eyes opened wide, questioning the owner silently.   
  
“Got to teach you a lesson, don’t I, werewolf.”   
  
A lesson about making larger sandwiches for snacktime? Really, if he wanted a blow job, there were better ways to make it happen than get angry about the food. Remus could have given him a handful of other reasons. But, as it was, Remus couldn’t say a thing about it. So he closed his eyes again, even as another hot smack of wand against arse cheeks came.   
  
The wand was skinny but hard. There wasn’t much give to the wood when it struck. And, depending on the angle, it burned hot for a second and then warmed with an aching sort of pain. The spill he had taken the night before, landing on his rear end on Miss Angelica’s bathroom floor, contributed to it.   
  
Remus held his mouth open, relaxing his throat, determined not to gag. Remus was suddenly glad for all the practice he’d had in this department lately. His gag reflex had been one of the first things to go, right after his self-respect.   
  
The new owner wasted no time at all in thrusting roughly into Remus’ mouth. He didn’t want a real blow job, though. Every time Remus tried something more complex like swirling with his tongue or stroking with it or even just sucking, the wand lashed at him like a whip.   
  
And then, when Remus did nothing at all but stay perfectly still, the wand came at him for no reason other than the owner seemed to like doing it. The more he hit Remus, the deeper he thrust. The faster he hit, the faster he thrust. Soon, he was doing both nonstop. The man blurted out nonsensical words that were mostly filled with vowels. Remus sat there on his knees, bearing the smacks, taking the cock, and wishing he were anywhere else.   
  
It seemed to take ages for the owner to come. When he did, the wand landed once more on his arse and stayed there, pushing, keeping Remus in position as the man spilled in spurts. Remus knew better than to refuse to swallow, but the cock was so far back that he didn’t taste most of it anyway. The man finished and collapsed onto the sofa. Mercifully, that meant the beating had stopped. By then, Remus had stopped being able to feel his backside; it was just on fire now. He knew from experience that the pain would return soon enough and sitting would then be unbearable.   
  
Sirius had spanked him, upon request, during sex a handful of times over the course of their relationship. And Remus had had a few clients who had been into the more physical side of BDSM as well. But this new owner… it wasn’t just about power with him; it was about force. It wasn’t that he started disciplining and ended up getting off on it, it seemed, but that he was horny and had to invent a reason to hit just so he could come.   
  
This was unhealthy, dangerous, and a whole lot less fun than anything Remus had done before. As the man lay there, panting and sated, Remus repressed the urge to wretch and the instinct to flee. He did, however, reach up to the hard leather collar the man had given him.   
  
Remus had to get himself out of this situation and the only way to do that was to lose the collar. He would repudiate it on the basis of incompatibility and demand to be returned to the Ministry. Surely the man wouldn’t keep a slave around who wasn’t a good match for him, not when there were so many others out there who might be better. Sure, Remus had claimed at the Market that he had been up for anything, but this was so much further than anything Remus had expected. Remus’ fingers searched on the collar for the buckle. It was so tight he couldn’t feel on his neck where it might be as he wore it, but he was certain his fingers would recognize the cold metal when they found it. They circled around several times, feeling a never-ending circle of leather only. When he began to get frustrated, he pulled at the collar itself. He tried to pull at the leather, but it was flush against his skin so his fingers could not find purchase. He pressed his palms to either side of his neck and tried to ease the collar this way or that, but it wouldn’t budge. It wasn’t just on him tightly—it was magically bound to him. And him to it… and to its owner.   
  
The owner stirred and actually smiled at Remus. “I think you’ve more than earned a reward.”  
  
Even the prospect of a reward wasn’t much of a consolation. Remus felt trapped and violated and hurt. He was sure to have bruises and marks where the man’s hands had taken hold and where the wand’s strokes had fallen. Truthfully, Remus wasn’t sure how much of this he could take.


	14. Chapter 14

Remus woke to the sharp pain and the jolt of contact as the man’s wand hit his side. Exhausted, he opened his eyes to find that he had fallen asleep on the floor amidst a small collection of books. The night before, he had started out with a short book he had never before read but that he thought looked good. He had consumed its contents so quickly that he had proceeded right to another one. That one had been dreadful, so he’d given up on it after a few pages and had tracked down a favorite: Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson.   
  
He had curled up with a blanket and pillow on the floor of the library, letting himself get lost in the Scottish classic about loss, betrayal, mistaken identity, rebellion, adventure, and justice. He had read the book so many times before that he couldn’t even remember how far into it he got before falling asleep. Of all the things he had been deprived of since entering the Ministry’s program for werewolf and since his finances had dwindled to little, books were what he missed the most. They were magical in how they let him completely escape his miserable life. And even when the stories they held contained misery, they always came out happy in the end.   
  
Most unlike life, apparently. “I thought I made it clear that you could earn rewards only by obeying me to the letter. I woke this morning to find you hadn’t even made breakfast for me.” The man’s wand smacked against Remus’ arse again, sending a stinging hot pain through it. Then he bent down and caressed Remus’ cheek. “What am I going to have to do to teach you a lesson about this, werewolf?”   
  
A lesson already? It wasn’t even… Remus caught a glimpse of a clock on one of the bookcases and saw it was quarter-til-six in the morning. The sun wouldn’t even be up yet and he was expected to be done with breakfast already? Remus shuddered and another strike of the wand found his backside. The pain in his body was tremendous.  
  
Remus’ owner settled himself down in a chair and motioned. “Undress and come here.”  
  
Utter pain raced through Remus as he walked over. He couldn’t see what state his body was in, but he was sure there were plenty of marks. He could feel the difference, the skin stretched and stiff. And he could feel it even more when he was face-down and bottom-up across his owner’s lap.   
  
“Look at that.” The man ran his fingers across Remus’ arse, making Remus’ skin crawl. “I’d better use my palm or it might open you up, you’re so raw.” Remus wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt the man’s cock stir beneath him. “So beautiful and hurt.”  
  
Remus closed his eyes, bracing himself. Several seconds passed, and Remus became uneasy. He wasn’t a fan of unpredictable. If he was going to be hurt, then he wanted it over with.  _SMACK!_  The man’s palm was even harder—and certainly wider—than the wand. Remus jumped, startled at the sharp pain. He kept his head down and let the tears come, glad his owner could neither see nor hear him.   
  
The man hit him again and again. The more he hit, the harder he became. Soon the erection was pressing hard into Remus’ chest. And the more he hit, the more Remus squirmed, trying to adjust so some less pained portion of him came into contact with his owner’s palm. The more Remus squirmed, the more he rubbed against the erection, which naturally caused Remus’ owner to go crazy with desire and hit harder. Frotting was added to the cycle, starting small and building to full on grinding through trousers against Remus’ front. It was warm and hard and so eager against Remus’ body.  
  
The man delivered an especially hard smack to Remus’ backside, and Remus yelled silently, taking the blow because he had to because of his choices and the Ministry and the entire Wizarding world. Remus was here because he had to be and no one was coming to save him.  
  
The session on his owner’s lap that morning lasted forever, or it seemed to at least. Remus suffered through every smack, hoping that one would eventually push the man over the edge. Just as Remus was thinking about reaching down to help the man along, Remus’ owner came. He howled excitedly, almost like a wolf, and made a mess of his pants that Remus knew he would be the one to clean up.


	15. Chapter 15

Remus could remember the exact moment he broke but not much after that. He’d been standing with the tip of his nose against a wall, as he had done a handful of times before, and the man’s wand had been striking his backside as it had dozens of times before. As before, he felt anger toward his owner for hurting him like this just to achieve a little orgasm. It was cruel and senseless and not remotely what Remus had had in mind when he had envisioned his perfect dom-sub collared relationship. Every fiber of his being raged against his owner, not understanding how anyone could fancy this so much.   
  
He couldn’t even remember the preposterous reason for this particular punishment. His owner always made something up to justify it, but Remus had stopped listening some time back, choosing instead to assume whatever position was called for and get the beating over with as soon as possible. This time, though, the anger and rage seemed to drain out of him so that by the end he felt nothing. Even the idea of a reward did not make him happy.   
  
His shoulders sagged, his body relaxed, and he took each stroke as if it were a reward in and of itself. He looked back at his master with a dazed expression and moved automatically. No more thinking, no more feeling, only doing.  
  
* * * * *     
  
The winter season had never been Remus’ favorite. And though he was hardly aware of the time of year and certainly hadn’t so much as looked out a window in days, he did noticed when his owner came down ill.   
  
The man lay in bed, ordering Remus to get him this or that and swatting Remus for being too slow in the getting or not anticipating the care that was needed. When his owner was asleep, Remus knelt beside the bed, watching silently, not knowing what else to do, waiting for his next command. So deep into submission was he that he couldn’t even fathom doing something on his own.   
  
When his owner was awake, Remus tended to him, applying cold compresses to a hot forehead, fetching food and drink, more pillows and blankets, even dressing and undressing the man. He took care with his master, making sure he was warm and comfortable at all times. It was his job now, his role in life, his reason for being.  
  
Spending the whole day ill and in bed made the owner restless. He was more generous with the swats and the fucking. Countless times Remus was thrown onto the bed, spanked, and then violated. The man would cough incessantly through the whole thing and sneeze unrestrainedly, catching Remus more than once. But Remus didn’t flinch, didn’t wince, didn’t react. He let it all happen and stayed unchangingly submissive the whole time. It was so much easier like this that Remus couldn’t understand why he hadn’t submitted sooner. That was what the collar was for, after all.   
  
* * * * *   
  
Remus woke the day before the full moon with a pounding headache and a stuffy nose. He knew he shouldn’t be surprised; the werewolf blood compromised his immune system so he caught pretty much anything going around without really trying. Being in close quarters with an ill man had gotten to him.   
  
Yet he barely felt the extra discomfort as he dragged his broken body up before dawn to fix breakfast.  
  
“Took you long enough,” said his owner, lounging in bed with a book Remus didn’t even glance twice at.   
  
Remus set the tray down and wiped his running nose on his sleeve before it ran visibly, knowing his owner wouldn’t like that at all.   
  
“Are you ill?” the man asked.  
  
Remus nodded, turned his head and sneezed. It was a strange sneeze, silent apart from the breathy components. But it made his owner’s face screw up in disgust. The THWACK he got on the rear for it was one of the hardest yet, but it felt like a comforting presence, a familiar warmth, to Remus. “How dare you!”  
  
The man had him against the wall in a split second, taking stroke after stroke. In a daze, Remus didn’t feel a thing. Even when the man entered him and sneezed again on him, Remus didn’t react as though he noticed.   
  
When it was over, his owner shook his head in disapproval. “This won’t do. You’re all weak and broken now.” He turned Remus around and frowned at him. “I’ve got to take you back to the Ministry for your transformation anyway… and I don’t think I’ll be back to claim you afterward.”  
  
Remus buckled at his knees found himself on the floor, pressing his lips to the man’s feet. This was his master, and his word was law. But Remus didn’t want to be separated from him. Not now. Not ever.


	16. Chapter 16

The accommodations the Ministry put together to keep the werewolves during the full moon were impressive. When he had enrolled, Remus had envisioned a big, secure room full of every werewolf. But, as it turned out, that would mean the werewolves attacking each other. And if the Ministry was capitalizing on the werewolves, it made sense not to allow them to injure, main, or murder each other. To the best of its abilities, the Ministry took care of its merchandise. The Ministry drugged each werewolf pretty heavily and moved each to its own cage. The walls and floor were padded. The lights were dim. And there was plenty of raw meat available.   
  
If Remus had felt better, it would have been an almost ideal situation. The problem was that he had never felt more alone in his life. Once upon a time, his transformations had been what he most looked forward to, a time to run free with his best mates, his pack. He had stupidly thought transforming alongside a hundred other werewolves would be similar. He would have others to romp about with. But the Ministry’s setup made this impossible.  
  
After going from constant contact with a master, being told—and shown—what to do every second of the day, it was torture to suddenly be alone with no one to direct him or even just be with him. He lay curled in a corner of his cage, too weak and ill to get up. Remus was barely aware of what was going on. He slipped in and out of consciousness, feeling nothing but pain and heat and misery when he was awake. His head was splitting. His body was on fire.  
  
He scratched himself when the savageness within got to be too much. And he bit his arm—gnawing almost nervously, repeatedly. Strangely, the injury was rather comforting. It was like the pain he’d felt over the past few days. It was a good, constant sort of pain. It made him feel alive.   
  
When the dawn broke, Remus was barely aware of it. He lay there, bleeding, hurting. Remus’ cage was open, and he didn’t move. Someone called to Remus but it didn’t really register.   
  
He was only remotely aware of hands upon him. He opened his eyes to see a wand but couldn’t keep his eyes open long enough to see what the wand was being used for. He felt a jerking sensation behind his naval. And he felt a hand on his forehead. He felt the hard mattress beneath him.   
  
There were no swats to his behind, which is what he was looking for—something to tell him what to feel, what to do. So he just lay in his bed in Unit Eight and hoped for that to change.  
  
There were muffled words fragmented sentences, random syllables. Things like “fever” and “potions are no good” and “stop the flow.”   
  
He felt himself being jostled in one direction and then the other. He was poked and nudged and moved about. His limbs fell heavily down when released, and the urge to gnaw at himself returned though his arm was wrapped up in something like bandages.   
  
He shivered uncontrollably and they pressed cold things to his forehead, neck, and cheeks. He tried to speak and tell him to stop, but when he tried, no sound at all came out. Remus thought he could still feel the tight pinch of his master’s collar around his throat and wished he wasn’t imaging it. He belonged. He had to. There was no way he could have made it this far and suffered so much without having achieved something.   
  
But nothing made sense. His master wasn’t coming for him. The world spun, making strange, spirals in his head, twisting everything so it wasn’t right any more.   
  
“…needs help!”  
  
“That’s nothing we…”  
  
“Fuck you.” That was Rolf’s voice; Remus was almost sure of it.   
  
Somewhere far away a bell rang. Someone kissed him, felt him up, flipped his robes up over his waist. Someone moaned. Someone came. Remus tasted salt and stickiness. Oh Merlin.  
  
“Is he gone?”  
  
“He comes every day now.”  
  
“…wants Remus.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
Someone pushed his head up and lowered it onto something warm—a thigh or a lap. Someone held a compress to his forehead. Someone caressed his arm with care. Someone yelled for a healer at the top of his voice. Someone performed a sleep spell that didn’t seem to work one bit.  
  
“…to rest…”  
  
“..no good…”  
  
Light touch. Soft hum. The springs of the bed creaked as it swayed from a new weight. More touches. More hums.   
  
“Just rest.”  
  
Blackness everywhere. All-encompassing. Never-ending. Lonely.  
  
Shouts. The shaking bed made him nauseated. A firm hand gripped his wrist. More shouts.  
  
“Lupin. Lupin!”  
  
Remus pulled his eyes open. Blurry dark figure. Dark-haired figure. Familiar figure.   
  
Snape had called out to him this time instead of the other way around. Snape had sounded… strange. Not desperate. Not horny. But maybe… worried. Maybe angry.  
  
Remus couldn’t speak. He couldn’t make his voice work and, even if he could, he wouldn’t know what to say. What was going on? Why was Snape there? Why was Snape in Unit Eight? Was this even Unit Eight?   
  
“Lupin, you have to come with me. I’m taking you out of here. You just need to wear my collar.” Snape’s eyes stared right into Remus’.  
  
Remus still couldn’t talk. He couldn’t move. But he blinked and, somehow, Snape understood that to be a “yes.” He felt himself being lifted up into warm arms and he drifted off to sleep, trying to fight it but being unable to.


	17. Chapter 17

Snape stood over the open flame, contemplating a pinch of cinnamon to balance out the mixture. After deciding in favor of it, he took the tea kettle off the stove and poured himself a steeping cup. Tired beyond belief and rubbing at his eyes, he headed out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and through the hallways. His home at Spinner’s End wasn’t safe to return to just yet. Many of Voldemort’s supporters were still at large and would want to find him, and many of the wizards and witches in the anti-Voldemort camp didn’t fully realize the part he had played in bringing down the Dark Lord. It was safer to stay off the radar entirely but he just couldn’t stand spending the holidays at Hogwarts this year, not after everything that had happened.   
  
There were two bedrooms in the house, and one of them was his current destination, along with the hard-backed chair within it. Snape sat down, sipped his tea, and let his gaze fall on the bed. Remus had been asleep nearly a full three days. And while Snape wasn’t worried now, he certainly had been at this time when he’d brought the man home.   
  
Remus’ fever had been dangerously high. Remus had recognized him at the Market, Snape had been sure of that, but fastening the collar around the neck of a man who wasn’t sure what was going on brought no pleasure of satisfaction whatsoever. In fact, the feeling of violation remained with Snape even now. If Remus woke and reacted badly to his circumstances, Snape would have no choice but to let him repudiate the collar. And Snape couldn’t allow that to happen. He couldn’t let Remus go back to that Hell of a place that had nearly killed him. Lots of people deserved that place, but Remus wasn’t one of them.  
  
Snape had spent hours at Remus’ side over the past few days. He had tried compresses, herbs, and spells to bring Remus’ fever down and rouse the man. When nothing seemed to work better than anything else, he had opted just to sit beside Remus and wait it out.  
  
The waiting was brutal. Every minute that passed made Snape feel like a failure. A hundred time he debated taking Remus to St. Mungos, but the man’s injuries were extensive and if he were found brining a purchased and collared werewolf in that state, the blame would have been placed on no other than Snape. They would whisk Remus away for treatment and Snape would be sent to Azkaban and he’d never see Remus again, or have the chance to—  
  
Remus exhaled deeply, whole body shaking.   
  
Snape leaned forward. Remus had spoken, moaned, even flailed about in his fevered sleep before. But this time felt different. Snape reached out and placed his palm on Remus’ forehead. It felt warn but certainly not unreasonably so.  
  
Suddenly, Remus’ amber eyes flew open. They quickly darted around the unfamiliar room before finding Snape. Realizing he was still touching Remus’ forehead, Snape drew back with such suddenness that he almost spilled the tea.   
  
“Do you remember me?” Snape asked, kicking himself for that. Of course Remus knew who he was. Every time Snape had seen Remus at the Market, the man had called out to him by name. Quickly, Snape clarified, “Do you remember what happened at the Market? Me selecting you, bringing you here, putting you to bed?”  
  
Remus blinked at him, and Snape got the feeling that the man was unsure. Perhaps he was overwhelmed. “You were ill, Lupin. You had a bad flu and some nasty injuries from your transformation. The other werewolves didn’t want me to take you—one of them tried to fight me and the other two staged some utterly ridiculous production as if were in any condition to fuck or get fucked. You weren’t doing well and…” Snape paused, wondering how much he could get away with saying. “You looked bad. You looked like you needed more than those stupid Ministry officials were giving you. More than the werewolves could do for you. So I collared you and brought you here.”   
  
Remus gave a start and reached up. His body stiff and tired, his coordination was lacking. It took him three tries to get his hand out from beneath the sheet and, when he did, he practically punched himself in the chin trying to reach for the collar. Snape knew better than to help guide his hand into place.   
  
Remus’ fingers finally located the collar and shook as they made contact. The collar had been buckled loosely and the layer of plush padding on the inside kept it from choking Remus. He already had marks around his neck from previous collars and Snape didn’t want to contribute to that, especially not when Remus was having trouble breathing already.   
  
Snape couldn’t quite figure out the look in Remus’ eyes. He had a sense that the man was still confused, but Snape’s powers as an Occlumens were far better than those as a Legilimens at the moment. He had tried to force his way into Remus’ mind a half dozen times over the past two days but something had blocked him out. He had suspected originally that it was the fever, but now he wasn’t so sure.   
  
Turning his head, Remus sneezed freely, shaking in bed.   
  
“Bless. Tea,” Snape said, putting the still steaming and untouched cup on the nightstand. “There are a few handkerchiefs and a basin here if you need them. There’s a bathroom just down the hall and a chamber pot under the bed if you can’t make it that far.”   
  
Remus’ look was still indescribable but now laced with confusion. Remus gathered his strength and threw off the covers. He looked a bit shocked to suddenly find himself in pajamas, but he pushed through that to plunge a still-shaking hand into his pants.   
  
Looking disgusted, Snape reached over, yanked at his forearm, and covered Remus back up. “Stay warm. The last thing you need is to get chilled.” Indeed, Remus was shivering just from that. “Rest, Lupin. I’ll be back later.”   
  
He left, heart racing, and closed the door to the guest bedroom behind him.


	18. Chapter 18

It was only Snape’s second year teaching Potions at Hogwarts and already he hated the task of grading. He was stretched out on the living room sofa with the strongest coffee he could stomach and two stacks of end-of-semester papers. The stack on the left, the one of papers he had already given marks to, was dwarfed by the one on the right of entirely untouched papers.   
  
His red-inked grading quill made slow work on the current paper, which was trying to defend the use of nettles in a vanishing solution—a completely preposterous notion only made worse by the fact that the child had atrocious penmanship. He heard noise from upstairs and then the sound of footsteps racing down the uncarpeted staircase. There was a scrambling sound, a series of bumps, and Remus burst into the living room, out of breath. He still wore his pajamas—most likely because Snape had washed the ghastly red robes the Ministry had put him in and Snape hadn’t bothered to return them yet. Remus stood at the end of the couch, gesticulating wildly, unable to speak of course because of the collar.   
  
Snape narrowed his eyes. “Calm down,” he ordered.  
  
But Remus continued to wave his arms about like a complete idiot, trying to communicate something and failing abysmally.   
  
Snape sighed, set the quill down, and turned his concentration to Remus. “Why are you so distressed? And slow down so I can understand.”  
  
Remus took a deep breath and motioned again, drawing a circle in the air. That, apparently, was supposed to mean something to Snape. “Ah. You want a hula-hoop?” Remus shook his head. Then he pointed at something across the room.  
  
Snape looked in that direction, spotting a blank wall and a grandfather clock. Assuming Remus was more concerned with the latter rather than the fact that Snape had not bothered to decorate the house, he took a wild guess. “You’re concerned about the time?” It wasn’t very late; it was only a quarter past nine.   
  
Remus relaxed slightly, giving him half a smile and a definite nod. Then he motioned again, arms moving wildly about, pretending to be grabbing at things and touching his hand to his mouth. “Eating?”   
  
Remus nodded again. He spread his arms wide and then brought his palms together in a loud clap.   
  
The fever had clearly made Remus Lupin go mad. Or, perhaps, something else had done that long before the illness.   
  
Finally, Remus grabbed hold of Snape’s hand and wanted him to get up. Snape rose and Remus pulled him across the living room, through the dining room, and into the kitchen. Once there, Remus began pointing around and then pointing back at himself again.   
  
It took Snape a few moments still to figure it out. “You wanted to make me dinner?”  
  
Remus relaxed and breathed out. He bobbed his head up and down several times in a nod. He pointed to his collar, then to Snape, then put his hand flat on his chest.   
  
“You wanted to make me dinner because I’m your owner?”  
  
Remus brightened and nodded vehemently. He put his palms together then tilted his head, resting the side of his head against them.   
  
“You were sleeping… but you wanted to be up to make me dinner because I’m your owner.”   
  
Remus nodded again and, looking pained, pounded his chest, right over his heart.   
  
“And you are sorry.” Snape sighed inwardly when Remus nodded again, tears in his eyes. What had this man’s previous owners done to him? “Lupin, you were asleep for three days. You’ve missed four dinners now.” Remus looked shocked. “And I didn’t expect for you to wake up and immediately start doing chores. You don’t have to make me dinner. In fact, if your cooking is anything like your potion-making, I would prefer you not touch food I’m meant to consume. You’re not my cook or my servant. That’s not why I took you from the Market.”   
  
Remus looked confused for a moment. Then his demeanor changed entirely. He seemed to retreat back inside himself. He avoided Snape’s gaze and he dropped to his knees. He pulled off the bright green, button-down pajama top, closed his eyes, and opened his mouth.   
  
Severus had seen a lot of things in his young life. But he could not remember ever seeing anything quite as tragic and pathetic as his former classmate, torso covered in scabbed-over scratches and healed scars, ribs noticeable on his thin and pale frame, kneeling on the floor of some muggle rental property, waiting to take Snape’s cock in his mouth. It wasn’t a sign of submission; it was a sign that Remus Lupin was broken.   
  
Feeling sick to his stomach, Snape left the room without a word.


	19. Chapter 19

After waking the next morning, Snape checked the guest bedroom. It was empty and the bed was neatly made as though he hadn’t slept in it. Snape half expected to walk down the stairs into the kitchen to find Remus still kneeling there, waiting for Snape to use his mouth. But the kitchen was empty. A glance in the fridge and the cupboard told Snape Remus hadn’t fixed a large breakfast. In fact, it looked like maybe Remus hadn’t eaten anything at all. If Remus had been planning on running away after last night, he should have been smart enough to steal some food to take with him. Snape made himself toast and, eating it dry, searched the house for his new guest.  
  
He didn’t have to look far. Snape found Remus in the living room, sitting by the front door in his red wizard robes. He had fallen asleep with his back to the wall, head tilted forward so his chin practically met his chest. His arms were wrapped around his middle, hugging himself to stay warm or to stay comforted—possibly both—and his legs were pulled up, bent at the knees as if his body were hiding behind them.   
  
Snape went over to the couch and retrieved the blanket draped over the back. He walked over and put it over Remus, who gave a start, waking immediately. He looked up at Snape, then at the door, expectantly, then at Snape again.   
  
The Ministry had treated him as an animal. They’d sold him to awful people. They’d practically starved him. And those werewolves, with their twisted pack logic, had thought he belonged there? Sure, Snape blamed Remus for a whole world of hurt, but the man didn’t deserve that place. “I’m not kicking you out. And I have absolutely no intention of taking you back to that dreadful Market place.”   
  
Remus looked again at the door. Then he hugged the blanket more tightly around himself.   
  
“I’m going to make breakfast. Enough for two. You don’t have to eat with me, but you do have to eat.” He turned and left, his robes swishing as he went. He knew he was being dramatic, but at least that would get Remus’ attention.   
  
He was nearly done by the time Remus entered the kitchen. Snape motioned for Remus to take a seat at the small table across from him. Breakfast consisted of scrambled eggs, grapefruit halves, and more toast. Remus looked down at it when Snape set it on the table and kept looking at it. Remus picked at his food, not because it was bad, but for some other reason Snape couldn’t figure out. Remus had to have been hungry; he looked like he was starving to death.   
  
Snape put his fork down and reached over to touch the back of Remus’ hand. Remus was not startled and did not flinch when he was touched. But he did look up into Snape’s black eyes and smiled. He looked at ease now. Snape sighed inwardly, careful not to let Remus see. “Here’s how it’s going to work,” Snape explained. “You’re here as my guest, and guests in my home eat. And they sleep in beds, not on the floor of my foyer. I collared you, and I can use you as I like. There are certainly things I’ll need from you. But for now, just eat, all right?”   
  
His eyes still trained on Snape, Remus nodded once. Then he reached for a fork. When Snape pulled his hand back, Remus stopped eating and became agitated, nervously looking down at his lap. So Snape scooted closer and kept his hand on Remus’ arm or shoulder, maintaining the contact the man seemed to need to keep his body calm.   
  
There was no reason that Snape could think of that would cause Remus to feel comforted by him. But he’d heard of hurt animals bonding with stronger ones to stay safe. Snape just wasn’t sure which he was—the weak one or the strong one.


	20. Chapter 20

“I have some grading to do this morning. I would prefer not to be disturbed until I’m finished.” Snape set the breakfast dishes in the sink and headed into the living room. He took a seat on the couch and realized, a second later, that Remus had not only been right behind him the whole time but was now kneeling at Snape’s feet.   
  
The obedient dog thing was not Snape’s thing, but apparently it had been someone’s. “Lupin,” Snape said, trying not to sound frustrated about it, “Get up.” Remus sprang to his feet, unable to hide a small grimace as he moved his hurt body too quickly. Apparently Remus still had some healing to do… in more ways than one.   
  
Snape guided Remus over to the armchair and sat him down. “Here,” he said, grabbing any random book from the nearby shelves. “Why don’t you just sit and read?” Remus hesitated and just stared at the book in front of him. “You had your nose stuck in a book all the time back in school.” Remus did not take the book. In fact, he shrunk back from it as if it would hurt him. “What? You don’t like it?”   
  
Remus stared at it, his eyes watering, but instinctively drew back, pressing himself hard against the back of the armchair. Snape recognized that look; he’d seen it on his mother’s face far too many times. “I’m not going to hit you with this.” He set it down on the arm of the chair. It made no sound as the cover touched the cushioned arm, but Snape could hear the sound of a leather-bound volume hitting bare skin. “I’m not going to hit you at all.” At this, Remus’ head whipped up, staring imploringly at Snape. Snape did not budge, but he did attempt to change the subject. “I thought you would enjoy reading it. You do still like to read?” Remus nodded. “And you haven’t yet read this book?” Remus shook his head. “Would you like to?” Anxiously, Remus glanced from the book to Snape and back again. He grew more agitated by the second. Finally Snape couldn’t stand it. “I’m commanding you to pick up this book and read it, Lupin. And if you don’t like it, choose another off my shelf. Am I being clear?”   
  
With a nod, Remus picked up the book. He gently opened it and turned through the title pages and chapter listing to the first page. With another anxious look at Snape, who was sitting back down to grade, Remus began to read the book.   
  
Snape marked the remaining papers more quickly than he would have normally, not feeling completely at ease with this arrangement. Remus didn’t seem to understand his place there, not that Snape could blame him. He didn’t really know why he had bought Remus either. He had avoided the man on purpose at first. It was one thing to own a werewolf, but quite another to own a former classmate… one that had once nearly killed him. But after seeing the pitiful state Remus had been in, he felt as if he had no choice.   
  
When he finished with the assignments, he stood up and stretched. Remus immediately closed the book and rose as well, ready to follow Snape wherever he was planning to go. Almost amused, Snape wondered what would happen if he went to use the loo just then. “I have some boxes downstairs I need to bring up. They’re fragile so I can’t use magic.” And Remus, with his collar on, couldn’t use magic either. “If you would like to help me…”  
  
Snape needn’t have asked. He wasn’t halfway across the room when Remus practically scampered after him to help. “Take it easy,” Snape told him. “I don’t want you tiring yourself out.”   
  
They spent three quarters of an hour making trips up and down the stairs. The boxes, full of bottled potions and various ingredients, were neither large nor heavy, but there were a hundred of them. Remus took an amazing amount of care with the boxes while not dawdling or stopping to rest once. He treated each as if it were delicate, making sure it was safe on the stack before releasing it. He didn’t seem to care what the boxes were, only that they were Snape’s. He seemed so eager to help.  
  
Actually, he seemed too eager to help. Before Snape knew what was happening, Remus had doubled over, coughing and gasping for air. He gently hugged the box to his chest to keep it from falling, breaking. He put all his concentration into the box, leaving his body to jerk about helplessly, weakly.   
  
Slightly frustrated, Snape took the box and piled it with the others against the wall. “You’re done for the time being. Go to the living room and relax, Lupin. I’ll get you some water.” Remus just stood there, wheezing and coughing deeply. Snape put a hand on his back and pushed him in the direction of the living room.   
  
He’d been stupid to let Remus do this; he knew that now. The man was in absolutely no condition to be carting boxes up stairs. He probably should have been in bed still. In bed with a book and a cup of tea… it sounded so good that Snape half wished he didn’t have any work to do and could follow suit. Snape filled a glass with cold water and returned to the living room at once. He froze at the sight before him.  
  
Remus stood in the far corner of the living room, his nose pressed to the wall and his robes up under his armpits. His bare legs were spread wide and his arsecheeks were clenched, ready to take a dozen straps or more if needed. Snape could see the man’s balls and cock hanging there limply, and he had to work to take his gaze off them. Snape had seen this position of submission before from werewolves at the Market and knew Remus expected to be disciplined for letting his owner down.  
  
He couldn’t have been more wrong. Snape stormed over and pulled Remus’ robes down, hiding the brutally scarred and damaged behind from sight. Remus turned and took hold of Snape’s hand. He guided it swiftly, smoothly, to his rear. He didn’t just expect to be punished—he wanted to be punished.  
  
Snape pried his hand away with disgust. “For Merlin’s sake, Lupin! I’m not going to hit you just because you got a little tired.”   
  
With his nose still pressed to the wall, Remus began to shake. His teeth chattered, his body shuddered, and tears leaked from his eyes. Snape went to touch him, comfort him, then thought better of it and hung back. “What… did they do to you?” he whispered. “You weren’t gone for all that long. I know, because I went by every single day. What did your owners do to you to make you this bad in such a short period of time?” He paused, wondering if Remus had been broken long before even getting his first owner. The war had done horrendous things to them all.  
  
Snape reached out and took Remus by the shoulders. He guided the man to the sofa and sat down beside him. He offered the glass of water then pulled back. In mid-sip, Remus started getting anxious again. His breathing increased, his lip trembled, his body bounced in place. But when Snape touched him again, Remus calmed almost instantly. With a deep sigh, “It was my fault. You’re just getting over being ill. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard.” Remus looked up at him, blinking, and shook his head. “I’m your owner. I should have known your limits.” He touched Remus’ collar, his fingers sliding from warm skin to warm leather and back again. “You should get some rest now.”  
  
Remus swallowed another mouthful of water, handed the glass back to Snape, then flopped down in place on the sofa. He curled up on his side with his head in Snape’s lap like a pillow.   
  
Snape gave a start, hands up, not sure what to do about this. He had meant, of course, that Remus should go up to bed and take a nap there. But Remus looked so calm and contented all of a sudden he didn’t know what to do except allow the intimacy to continue.   
  
And then it happened. Remus must have felt Snape’s lap react to the warmth and presence, because Remus began nuzzling. He rubbed his face into Snape’s crotch. And Snape’s cock reacted by rising and hardening and rubbing right back. Snape closed his eyes, leaned back, and moaned. How long had it been? Remus ran his cheek up and down along the long shaft. How good would it feel? Remus breathed out warmly, making Snape tingle. How could he say no?  
  
“No.” Snape reached down and, somehow, eased Remus’ head back. “Not now, Lupin. You need to rest.” He knew he could easily slide out from under Remus, substituting a couch cushion for his lap. He knew he should do just that. But he didn’t. Remus gave it a second or two, and then he nuzzled his face into Snape’s crotch again. Snape tried his best to control himself. Luckily, Remus fell asleep before it could go any further.


	21. Chapter 21

Their first real day together could have gone better. Between Remus thinking he would be returned, being too eager to please, and wanting to be disciplined no fewer than three times, Snape had had to tread as carefully as he’d had to when he had been in the Dark Lord’s camp.   
  
It had been a relief to finally tuck the exhausted, half-aware half-blood into bed for the night. Snape had brought a book to bed, but it sat, untouched, on the nightstand. His head raced with thoughts, possibilities, problems, and pain.  
  
He had known Remus needed help but hadn’t had any idea of the extent of the damage. The paperwork said that Remus had been working as a rentboy until the time of his enrollment in the program, so he should have had a tough enough exterior to withstand whatever tortures the other owners set upon him. Yet, somehow, something had broken through. Something had touched him deep inside and he couldn’t break away… or didn’t want to.   
  
“Remus,” Snape sighed softly, rolling onto his back. “What will I do with you?”   
  
The problem was, he wouldn’t be able to bring any more werewolves home for the time being, not with Remus in this condition. There was no telling what he would do if he thought his territory was being invaded by another or if he thought his owner preferred someone else over him. Remus was the worst kind of unstable… and Snape knew how that felt far too well.   
  
“Lily,” he whispered, closing his eyes, and before he knew it, he was stroking himself. The erection he had refused Remus access to earlier was back with eagerness now.   
  
The wank started out the same as every one before it. As he stroked himself, he pictured Lily’s hand where his was. When he bit his lip, he imagined Lily kissing it, tugging playfully on it. When he flicked his fingers at his nipples, he could almost feel Lily’s touch, her breasts, her long red hair brushing over his pale skin.   
  
But this time, the fantasy took a turn he hadn’t expected. Lily was there, all right, but so was Remus. The werewolf was there, lying on one side of him while Lily was on the other. They both touched him, both kissed him. Remus reached down to cup Snape’s balls while Lily swirled slick fingers around the head of Snape’s cock.   
  
Snape moaned loudly, without restraint, and rolled onto his side. He hugged Lily’s beautiful body to his chest, making her his and his alone. She bent one of her knees, lifting her leg, spreading wide, allowing him access. And he slipped inside as if he were made just for her. It was a perfect fit and, Merlin, felt so damn good. But this time, Remus lay behind Snape, an arm draped around him securely. With a generous lubricating spell, Remus slid into Snape’s arsehole exactly when Snape’s body rocked back as he slipped out of Lily.   
  
The sensation strangely new but utterly amazing all the same. If he rocked forward, he went deep into Lily. If he rocked back, Remus went deep into him. Snape thrust back and forth a few times, slowly, getting into the steady rhythm. Then he couldn’t help himself. He moaned and began bucking wildly, gyrating, thrusting, fucking and being fucked all at once.   
  
He came as he had never come before, come gushing out of him like a geyser that had waited years to erupt. Snape pumped his cock until it was empty and vanished the mess afterward with a wave of his wand.   
  
With his mind finally blank and his body physically exhausted, he pulled the covers up over himself and drifted off to sleep.   
  


* * * * *

 

  
  
It took all his concentration to float the rock through the air, around the whipping branches of the homicidal tree, and get it to hit the knot in the tree trunk hard enough to make the tree calm. He still didn’t understand why Black would tell him how to do it, but he didn’t really care. He was too keen to confirm his great suspicions about what Remus and friends got up to once a month. So he slid into the passage where the roots parted and made his way along the long, dark tunnel.   
  
“Lumos!”   
  
The underground tunnel was cold, damp, and seemed to go on forever. He could hear every footstep he took. And he searched the shadows and the darkness for something… or someone.   
  
Just as he was growing certain this whole thing was just a big joke Sirius Black was playing on him, he caught sight of something at the end of the tunnel. Something moving. Something wolfish.   
  
And then there were the teeth- bright white, sharp, part of a vicious snarl. There was fur, ragged and thick. There were ears that stood up straight, at attention, then folded back on his head. And there were claws, scratching at the dirt in the ground as if getting ready to sprint.   
  
Snape couldn’t move. He’d done the research; he’d been sure Remus Lupin must be a werewolf. And he knew how dangerous werewolves were. But he’d never really thought he’d be in danger. He thought he would catch the boy and call him out on in. Instead, he’d be werewolf food if he was lucky or maimed and turned into a werewolf if he was unlucky.   
  
The wolf took one step closer, its nostrils flaring. Its eyes went white as the wand light struck his eyes at just the right angle. It made Snape shudder. There was no escape, no hope.   
  
And then someone grabbed him from behind, dragging him backward by the arm and the torso. Someone turned him around, yelled run, and pushed him back toward the tree side of the tunnel. Behind him, Snape heard snarling and growling. It was still coming after him!  
  
* * * * *

 

 

It took all his concentration to float the rock through the air, around the whipping branches of the homicidal tree, and get it to hit the knot in the tree trunk hard enough to make the tree calm. He still didn’t understand why Black would tell him how to do it, but he didn’t really care. He was too keen to confirm his great suspicions about what Remus and friends got up to once a month. So he slid into the passage where the roots parted and made his way along the long, dark tunnel.   
  
“Lumos!”   
  
The underground tunnel was cold, damp, and seemed to go on forever. He could hear every footstep he took. And he searched the shadows and the darkness for something… or someone.   
  
Just as he was growing certain this whole thing was just a big joke Sirius Black was playing on him, he caught sight of something at the end of the tunnel. Something moving. Something wolfish.   
  
And then there were the teeth- bright white, sharp, part of a vicious snarl. There was fur, ragged and thick. There were ears that stood up straight, at attention, then folded back on his head. And there were claws, scratching at the dirt in the ground as if getting ready to sprint.   
  
Snape couldn’t move. He’d done the research; he’d been sure Remus Lupin must be a werewolf. And he knew how dangerous werewolves were. But he’d never really thought he’d be in danger. He thought he would catch the boy and call him out on in. Instead, he’d be werewolf food if he was lucky or maimed and turned into a werewolf if he was unlucky.   
  
The wolf took one step closer, its nostrils flaring. Its eyes went white as the wand light struck his eyes at just the right angle. It made Snape shudder. There was no escape, no hope.   
  
And then someone grabbed him from behind, dragging him backward by the arm and the torso. Someone turned him around, yelled run, and pushed him back toward the tree side of the tunnel. Behind him, Snape heard snarling and growling. It was still coming after him!  
  
* * * * *  
  
Snape woke with a start, his yelling so loud it rang in his own ears. But when he opened his eyes, by the light of the waning moon, he saw Remus standing over him and he screamed again.   
  
Remus jumped back at the noise, just as startled as Snape was. But then he waved his hands about, pointing, trying to express concern and the fact that he knew Snape was in distress.  
  
“Yes,” Snape said, his heart beating so fast he could feel it in his throat. “I had a nightmare.” He swallowed and tried to slow his breathing. There was no reason to tell Remus that he had these nightmares every night that werewolves slept in his house. Usually the dreams consisted of a werewolf jumping out at him from some random room in his house or at school. This dream had been different though; this one had been real. He supposed it had to do with the fact that it wasn’t just any old werewolf staying in the house. “I’ll be all right,” Snape insisted.  
  
But Remus shook his head insistently. He disappeared out the room for a moment. Snape had just gotten his racing heart back under control when Remus returned with half a glass of warm milk. He must have heated the milk over the fire, because he couldn’t have used magic. Remus handed it over then smoothed Snape’s hair back from his face.   
  
Snape drank, not really liking the taste but enjoying the warmth. And the touch wasn’t as completely unwelcome as it might have been. But when Remus pulled back the covers and attempted to get into bed, Snape stiffened and held him off. “Lupin, your presence is not going to help matters.” There was a certain irony about the man who had just tried to murder him in his dreams trying to comfort him now. Not to mention that letting Remus into his bed would only confuse the already confused man more. This wasn’t a relationship, it wasn’t even lust.   
  
Remus circled around the bed and got in on the other side. He slid over before Snape could stop him, and pressed himself up to Snape’s back, one arm draped around Snape. He nuzzled his face into the back of Snape’s neck affectionately and hugged his owner close.   
  
Snape closed his eyes. Well, maybe there was a little bit of lust in the mix. And maybe he didn’t completely hate this. He’d never been held like this before. Back when they were friends, Lily had hugged him a few times, and she had been sweet to him and concerned about him. But no one had ever cared like this. No one had ever insisted on holding him, petting him, kissing him. Snape shivered, wondering what it meant, but fell asleep before he came to any conclusions.   
  
He didn’t have another nightmare that night.


	22. Chapter 22

Snape woke rather later than intended the next morning. He couldn’t remember having slept so soundly for so long. And he couldn’t remember being happier and securer than he was when he woke, wrapped in Remus’ warm arms.   
  
The closeness came with an added surprise: Remus’ morning hard-on. Snape felt it pressing hard against his arse. He instantly thought of his wank the night before and felt his own cock stirring. Lily wasn’t here. Lily would never be here. But Remus was here. And Remus was so hard, so ready. “Morning,” Snape whispered. He looked over his shoulder and saw Remus was awake already and, apparently, not willing to move until Snape told him to.   
  
Snape hesitated, considering carefully. The tingles rushing through him were hard to ignore, especially as he wasn’t used to them. But he knew what he had to say. “You’d better go take a shower.”   
  
Remus pulled his arm back and nodded obediently. Snape relaxed in bed, wondering if he should address the urges lingering in his groin. It was rare for Snape to come at night and then still be interested in it in the morning; he wasn’t a randy little boy any more. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he’d known Remus back when the two of them were boys. Or perhaps it was just because it was Remus.   
  
“Oh Merlin…” Snape rolled over to be sure Remus had gone and found that Remus had left the door to the bathroom wide open. Moreover, he had only pulled the shower curtain halfway around the tub. Snape could see Remus at an angle. There was Remus’ side, Remus’ legs, Remus’ arse. He couldn’t quite see Remus’ front or his face, though, even as Remus leaned back slightly. The shower ran, striking Remus’ front, out of Snape’s view. Snape imagined the look of him soaking wet. Would it show off his scars more, or hide them? Would it make his hair darker or make it fall differently? Would it… “Oh  _Merlin!_ ” Snape gasped as Remus turned in place so the rest of his body could get wet. His arms were up over his head, one hand wrapped around his other wrist. He seemed taller somehow like this. And he glistened, or maybe that was just the warm orange sunlight reflecting off the droplets. But what Snape was absolutely certain about was the sizeable member Remus sported. It hadn’t felt so substantial a few minutes before, but now it was quite a presence.   
  
Snape couldn’t help it. His hand dove under his nightshirt and into his pants. He stared unblinkingly at Remus, knowing he would be seen if Remus opened his eyes, but not caring one bit just now. All he cared about was the man in the next room who looked incredibly good and who would do absolutely anything for him. Snape could make Remus do the kinkiest, most outrageous things and Remus wouldn’t refuse. More importantly, Remus wouldn’t be able to tell anyone. He could live out his deepest, darkest fantasies with a willing partner and completely free of consequences. Who would refuse that? Who could?  
  
Remus turned again on the spot, showing Snape his arse again. And then Remus lowered his arms and reached for the soap. The man ran it over his body quickly, generating suds and covering his whole body with a thin film. Snape watched him soap up, finding the movements almost graceful. It was an intimate moment, a private routine, something so simple but beautiful.   
  
It made Snape hard as he’d never thought he could be. That is, until Remus took himself in hand and began to pull. Snape felt a rush go through him. He felt tingly and shaky, warm and jittery. The urges took over. Soon he was stroking himself in time with Remus’s strokes. He couldn’t see the other man’s hand, but he saw the movements of the body and the jerking of his arm. He recognized the motions anywhere, even from behind, and he sped up the movements when Remus did the same. It was almost as if they were one, melded together, synchronized, linked. Snape did exactly as Remus did, matching him stroke for stroke.   
  
And then Remus took his other hand and slid one finger up his own arse. Snape didn’t even think about, didn’t even pause. He stuck a finger in his mouth to wet it, then he inserted it in himself. It hurt for a moment, and then it just felt uncomfortable. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out what men saw in this. Just as he was sliding his finger back out again, he felt it. There was something in the angle or depth or, well, it didn’t matter what it was; the point was that it was fucking amazing. “Ohhh…” he began again and, this time, he didn’t finish with ‘Merlin.’ “Remus,” he whispered. “Yes, Remus. Yes…”   
  
Remus kept going, increasing the pace, going so fast Snape thought he might lose it before Remus did. It was a battle with himself to see how long he could last when faced with this scene, and he felt as though he were losing terribly. Remus looked so good, so hot. He could see what Remus’ previous owners must have seen in him now. And he wondered how any of them could have let him go. If Remus were his…  
  
But Remus was his. “Remus,” Snape whispered again. He watched as the man’s body moved in precisely the same way his own body was moving. He watched as Remus pleasured himself the same way Snape was pleasuring himself. He watched the man standing in his shower, wearing his collar, wanking for him.   
  
And he came—they both came. Things exploded inside Snape, firing from everywhere, overpowering him with wave after wave of pleasure. Snape turned his face into the pillow to muffle the sound, hoping the water in the shower drowned out any remaining noise Remus might have heard, wondering why he hadn’t have the peace of mind to cast a silencing charm.   
  
Lying in bed afterward, feeling his body hum with contentedness, he wasn’t in a hurry to break out of the euphoria that came with such a spectacular orgasm. But he knew he had to clean himself up before Remus returned and saw him. He didn’t want to send Remus mixed messages; the last thing Remus needed was to find Snape desiring him. Even if Snape did. Even if Remus wanted him to.   
  
Remus finished up in the shower and returned, wearing robes Snape had lent him instead of the one the Ministry had dressed him in. He looked like he would have been more comfortable wearing nothing, but Snape wanted him dressed and Remus obeyed. This time, too, Remus’ nostrils flared as he approached Snape. He sniffed the air and Snape had a feeling Remus knew, even though he had used a whole handful of cleaning spells and pulled the covers up all the way. Possibly, a werewolf’s heightened sense of smell could detect something lingering, or something radiating from Snape. Snape wondered if Remus’ heightened hearing might have tipped him off even before that, though. Something warm fluttered in him at the thought of Remus tossing in the shower, listening to Snape’s muffled moans of his name.   
  
But Remus could not say anything about it, so Snape said nothing. He pushed off the covers and made to take his own morning shower. “After breakfast, I’ll have something I need you to do for me, Lupin.” Snape watched the way the man’s eyes lit up at those words and felt a bit guiltier than expected.


	23. Chapter 23

It wasn’t natural to go out and purchase the thing that scared you the most and keep it around to constantly haunt your thoughts and dreams. It was, however, normal to want to get rid of the thing that scared you the most and banish it from the world entirely. And that was why Snape had spent more than a year trying to develop some sort of cure for werewolves.   
  
His first thought was that it was something in the blood, and if he could just eliminate certain elements within the werewolf, the wolfishness would die away. A werewolf was only a wolf for one night every month, after all, not even a full 12 hours sometimes, depending on the time of the year. There had to be some way of addressing just that one little bit that turned a man into a terrible, vicious, mindless killer.   
  
The more he studied and experimented with potions, the more he grew to realize he needed real werewolves. He was nowhere near testing any solutions, but he couldn’t move forward without collecting samples. Luckily, the Ministry of Magic made that task easier than expected. All he had to do was fork over most of his monthly salary as a professor and he, too, could be the owner of his very own werewolf.   
  
His nightmares, which had been sporadic for a while, returned every night a werewolf was in his house. Every night he saw the sharp canine teeth gnashing and the solid, glowing amber eyes. Every morning he had to wake up, knowing his greatest fear was lying in wait just down the hall in his guest bedroom.   
  
He had to collar them. The werewolves weren’t told everything that the collars did, because none would be willing to accept a collar with such knowledge. They knew, of course, that the collars suppressed the ability to do magic and prohibited them from talking. But the collars also weakened the werewolves considerably, especially the longer one was worn, and made it physically impossible for a werewolf to harm its owner in any way. If one tried, he would be instantly knocked unconscious, during which time restraints could be applied and the offending werewolf could even be transported back to the Ministry. Snape knew most of the werewolves in the program were either broken or degenerate. They were either pitifully submissive or highly unstable. Snape didn’t like to see the ones in the first camp and he certainly didn’t trust the ones in the second group. The collar was an absolute necessity.   
  
The men did not especially like having their blood drawn, but with no choice in the matter, they submitted. Snape would keep them fed and clean until trading them in again at the Market. He went through quite a few of them before realizing that the solution did not lie with blood, but with another bodily fluid.   
  
This was why he settled on the gay males of the species. In a pinch he could handle one of the straight males, but it was easier to get the pofters worked up and in a fit state to perform the actions he required.   
  
He hadn’t wanted Remus to know. In fact, he had thought about just taking Remus back to the Market once he felt better. Letting Remus know he was working on something to cure werewolves meant showing Remus a vulnerability Snape did not ever want to show the wolf who had tried to kill him as a schoolboy. Letting Remus know about the research would inform Remus that he was still scared, and still tied to his past. But, at the same time, he felt like, of them all, Remus would understand how that felt. And, perhaps, Remus would want to help make it up to Snape, to redeem himself for his part in that potentially deadly prank.  
  
“I need you to come for me,” Snape said, after they had finished breakfast.   
  
Remus’ eyes were wide and white. They locked onto Snape’s black ones and stayed there for a few moments. Then, without looking away, Remus got up from the table, pulled up his robes, and pulled down his pants.   
  
Snape should have seen this coming. He jumped up and steered Remus out of the kitchen by the shoulders. What had once been this house’s dining room had been converted into Snape’s workroom. Bottles and jars lined one whole wall, cauldrons and notebooks were strewn across a scrubbed wooden table. And an unusually large fireplace looked like it had grown right out of the floor on the far side.   
  
“Lupin…” Snape began, hating the uncertainty in his voice already, and he hadn’t even decided how to explain this.   
  
Turning, Remus looked into his eyes again, then put a finger to his own lips. He needed no explanation. Either the reason did not matter or he already understood; Snape wasn’t sure which. But Snape was strangely excited. He hadn’t counted on enjoying watching Remus wank, but he couldn’t deny the morning had been arousing. Snape couldn’t deny the anticipation building within him now at the thought of getting to see that again, up close this time.   
  
Remus reached under his robes again and began stroking himself rapidly, impressively. Remus’ body was stiff, rigid. There was nothing in it that Snape recognized from the wank in the shower. This was merely a chore he had to complete. His wrist bent and hand jerked, pulling at his cock with quick little strokes. His expression was blank.   
  
Snape tried not to look disappointed. He tried to pretend that amazingly hot visual wasn’t something he wanted again, at his disposal. He tried to pretend there was nothing behind his request but his research. Pursuit of knowledge. Successful discovery. Worldwide recognition of an amazing achievement. It had nothing to do with his overly willing, rather sexy, probably incredibly skilled love slave.   
  
Remus stood there, working his cock clinically, stroking and stroking. His cock was hard, but that was all, it seemed. Snape leaned close, hardly daring to speak. “Do you need help?” Suddenly, Remus moved closer, into his owner’s chest, and took a few deep breaths of Snape’s scent.   
  
After that, Snape barely had time to reach for a bottle and pull out the stopper before Remus was ready. Unable to speak, to announce it coming, Remus grabbed hold of Snape’s arm and squeezed tightly, urgency in his eyes. Snape held the bottle up and helped ease the head of Remus’ cock in past the mouth. The cock was warm, strong, and made him shiver with excitement at the touch. He hoped Remus couldn’t tell, couldn’t smell, couldn’t see, couldn’t sense it. Snape desperately wanted to reach down and touch himself. Instead, he settled for holding the bottle as Remus filled it two-thirds full of seed.   
  
This would be useful, Snape was sure. But this still felt wrong, like a mistake. It didn’t feel the way it had with all the other werewolves.   
  
When they were done, and the stopper was on the bottle finally, Snape dismissed Remus. “Thank you. I’m sure this will be useful. Why don’t you go read another book while I’m working, Lupin?” He motioned toward the door.   
  
Remus hesitated, his gaze lingering on Snape. Then he nodded obediently and left the room.   
  
Snape let out a deep breath, having not realized he had been holding one. He bent over the table to write out a label for the bottle. But his hand shook so his first few attempts at “Lupin” looked like an L and then a jumbled, squiggly mess. Deciding that labeling could wait, Snape tried to turn his attention toward his latest concoctions. None of them were strong enough. It was possible that any successful potion would have to carry some sort of element unique to the werewolf it was meant to cure.   
  
He tried his best to concentrate on the tasks at hand, at the research, but his mind kept straying toward Remus. He didn’t know why, but he thought he might check in with him, just to be sure the man had found a book all right. He opened the door to his workroom and Remus stood right there at the threshold.   
  
Snape didn’t have time to say a word. He didn’t even have time to search Remus’ eyes or mind for an explanation. Remus immediately moved forward and pressed his lips to Snape’s with a fierce, powerful kiss. Remus, it could be said, was a damn fine kisser. Just enough moisture, just enough tongue, just enough contact, just at the right angle, for just the right amount of time.   
  
When Remus pulled away, Snape could still feel the sensation of the kiss upon his mouth, and he desperately wanted it back again. “Remus,” he whispered, and pulled the man back into the room.


	24. Chapter 24

It was almost as if Remus had been waiting all these days to get his mouth around Snape’s cock. Snape lay naked beneath his work table, legs stretched out and spread. Remus’ fingers worked his balls delicately, circling, squeezing, caressing, holding. Snape thought he might explode just from that sensation alone. Remus’ tongue stroked the length of Snape’s cock and Remus kissed the tip after every long, powerful stroke. And then came the man’s mouth—deep and warm and wet. Snape thrust in and up before he could stop himself. “Sorry,” he whispered, pulling back. His cheeks flushed and he tried to pull away before Remus could notice.   
  
Remus placed his arms on either side of Snape and looked up. His amber eyes were soft, understanding. He smiled with kindness. He motioned to his collar, then to Snape, then laid his hand upon his heart. Snape got the meaning, loud and clear. Remus would keep his confidence. Remus would take care of him. Remus didn’t mind that Snape had never been on the receiving end of a blow job before and had no idea how to handle himself during one.   
  
Reaching his hand out to pet Snape, Remus soothed him. It was that gentle touch that told Snape to relax… and essentially helped Snape relax. He didn’t have to try, he didn’t have to work. He didn’t have to pretend or put up barriers. All he had to do was lie there and let his werewolf, his man, his sub make him happy. They would handle whatever came next, even if it meant trying to explain to Remus this hadn’t been a good idea. Snape would sit Remus down, maybe with tea, and explain that this could never happen again. This wasn’t why Snape went to the Market and got werewolves. This wasn’t—  
  
“Ngguhh!” Snape gave a strangled, caught-off-guard cry as Remus suddenly twirled his twisting tongue around the head of Snape’s cock. Snape shuddered excitedly and closed his eyes. He expected to see images of Lily dance before his eyes. He always saw Lily when he masturbated.   
  
But this wasn’t some fantasy-filled wank. This was real. This was happening. This was fucking good.   
  
The sensations rushing through him were magical—Remus own sort of magic that couldn’t be blocked out by some stupid top on a power trip or some stupid Ministry-made collar. Remus was a pro but, more importantly, he seemed to care. He sucked with enthusiasm. He touched with care. He smiled with kindness. Snape opened his eyes and looked down at Remus servicing him so eagerly. This was his chance to do everything he’d always wanted to do. It was his chance to fulfill his deepest, dirtiest fantasies—the things he couldn’t even bring himself to imagine for imaginary Lily. It was his chance to—  
  
“Ahhhhh… oh-oh!” The need was spectacular. It was as if he could feel the orgasm within himself building, stabilizing, and then building some more to incredible, impossible heights. He lost control of his body and then his mind. He lay on the floor beneath the work table, doing nothing at all but feeling every brilliant feeling there was to feel.   
  
“I… Remus… nghh… I’m going to… going to-ah… AH!” Snape grabbed hold of the table leg to steady himself, certain that the overwhelming pleasure would cause him to break apart or go flying up to the ceiling. It wasn’t possible for his body to contain such pleasure.   
  
The orgasm made him buck, made him moan, made him scream in ecstasy. And when he was done, there wasn’t even anything to clean up. Remus swallowed, licked him several more times, and then ran a sleeve against the sensitive skin to dry it. He smiled at Snape again, that same, kind smile as before.  
  
And, despite himself, Snape smiled back. “I bought something a while ago I’d like to try.” Snape struggled to make his body obey again. He sat up, still clinging to the table leg, and almost banged his head on the table. “Oh,” he added. “And don’t go anywhere, all right? Not even to the loo.”  
  
Smiling, Remus lay down and put his head in Snape’s lap. He rubbed his cheek against Snape’s pale thigh and curled up. Snape found himself stroking Remus’ head affectionately, appreciatively. Oh yes, he was in trouble now.


	25. Chapter 25

With Remus in tow, Snape headed up to his bedroom after lunch. He had, of course, intended to work on the cure for the whole day. Now it looked like he’d be lucky to keep his mind on his work for even a moment. Remus was just too obliging, too willing, too delicious.   
  
Snape stopped outside his bedroom and turned to face Remus. “Before we go any further, I have a request.” Remus stood there patiently, waiting for it. “I would like to request you keep what happens between us confidential. I will not make you do anything you do not want to do, and I hope you will let me know about that. But what I do and with whom I choose to do it is a private matter. Do you understand?”   
  
Remus gestured to his collar.  
  
“Yes, I know you’re wearing my collar and can’t talk. But I’d like your word that you won’t say anything even if you could speak.” Snape didn’t intend to keep Remus collared forever, after all. If this… worked out, so to speak, there would be no need for a collar at some point in the future.   
  
Remus pointed to his collar, then to Snape, and then put his hand on Snape’s chest. Even though the robes, Snape could feel the warmth of that touch. “Are you trying to tell me you won’t say anything because I’m your owner and you wouldn’t betray that trust?”  
  
Remus nodded.   
  
That wasn’t exactly what Snape wanted, but he wanted to do this so badly and that answer was good enough. “That should suffice.” He hurriedly went into the bedroom and to the wardrobe standing in the corner. After rooting through it for close to a minute, he finally pulled out a box. At the moment he opened the lid, everything in the room went wonky for a few seconds. Snape felt dizzy, unbalanced, unsettled. He grabbed for Remus, holding the werewolf steady, and ending up on the bed with him. Snape leaned forward and kissed Remus’ forehead gently. “Are you all right?” Remus nodded. “Good.”   
  
From the box, Snape took two small, square mirrors. He propped them up against the pillow and held his hand in front, to capture the image of his hand in both.   
  
Suddenly, the image of the hand in the left mirror snapped. A few second later, Snape’s actual hand snapped, looking precisely the same, only with sound. And a few seconds after that, the right mirror image of the hand snapped. “It doesn’t see the future,” Snape explained. “But it extends a time delay around the immediate area so it appears as though this one does show events a few seconds before they happen.” With a rather sly grin, as if he had been planning this for ages, he used an engorgement charm to enlarge the mirrors until the two were big enough to show copies of full-sized beds. He mounted one on the wall and set the other on the dresser. Images of Remus and Snape appears to infinity in either direction, alternating between the future and the past.   
  
Snape smiled at Remus’ rather stunned expression. “If you don’t want to do this…”  
  
Remus grabbed him, kissed him, and let him fall back onto the bed. Slowly, so slowly, Remus began stripping clothes off Snape’s body. Large, black buttons began at Snape’s neck and trailed down to the bottom of his chest. And there were tiny buttons that began at the man’s thin wrists and extended along the sleeves to the elbows. Remus undid every single one with care, moving so excruciatingly slowly Snape would have been frustrated if not for Remus’ erection grinding into his thigh the whole time. Snape watched the mirrors, fixated on the slow, almost graceful dance Remus was doing as he went button by button, getting closer each time, revealing more skin each time.   
  
Snape’s skin looked paler against so much black, and he seemed to come alive as the clothes were stripped away. Every so often, Remus kissed a bit of the sensitive skin and Snape trembled at the touch.   
  
Off came the cloak, the jacket, the square-toed boots, the pants, the white collared shirt, the socks. And then, finally, he slid Snape’s gray drawers down and off. Snape vanished Remus’ clothes in a split second. So, suddenly, Remus’ cock really was against his thigh. And, Merlin’s Beard, it was leaking a little. “Oh Remus,” Snape said, barely above a breath.   
  
Remus began to slide down, his mouth open to welcome Snape’s cock into it. But Snape held him. “No,” he said. “This time I want…” He glanced toward the future mirror and saw the Snape within speaking the words he was too scared to say out loud. It gave him confidence that the Snape in the past mirror did not yet have. “I want to fuck you.”   
  
He glanced from past Remus to future Remus. Both wore no expression. So he looked up into the eyes of his Remus. It took more than a few seconds, but Remus finally nodded. He rolled over, then over again, ending up on his hands and knees, presenting his arse.   
  
Snape stared at it for a moment, desperately wanting it and not wanting it all at once. It was scarred and marked with whole patches that looked like they’d been hit one too many times. He reached his hand out toward it, then retracted his hand before making contact. It needed more healing. The moment he got the idea, he glanced over at his future self to see Snape picking up his wand and giving it a wave. A few seconds later, he summoned a small bottle from his workroom, catching it deftly.   
  
“Stay still, Remus.” He poured a few dollops of lotion into his palm, rubbed his hands together to warm them, then touched Remus’ rear. The man did not flinch; he was staring at his future self in the mirror. Snape rubbed the lotion into Remus with smooth strokes. “This won’t heal it completely, but it will help. Just put this on a few times a day. Or… have me put it on a few times a day for you. Does it feel nice?” Snape glanced over at the past reflection of Remus and, a second later, it smiled and nodded.   
  
Snape used up most of the bottle, rubbing it into the tough, scarred skin. The lotion gave the skin a pearly sort of shine, but there was so much damage done from who knew how much or how many. There were marks everywhere, and Snape tried to cover every bit with lotion. Which meant running his hand in-between Remus’ arsecheeks.   
  
Which led to more rubbing, touching, fingering. Remembering that morning, Snape slicked a finger and slid it into Remus. The man jerked excitedly. “I’ve never really done this before,” Snape confessed, pushing his finger in deep, trying to remember the successful angle he had found earlier. Remus breathed out deeply when Snape hit the spot.   
  
Remus glanced back reassuringly, and motioned for Snape to mount him. Nervous did not begin to describe Severus Snape at that moment. He practically trembled as he knelt behind Remus, who was down on his hands and knees. With more lotion, Snape made sure he was hard and slick and ready. Then he carefully positioned his cock. The head prodded a little and, nervous, he glanced over at future mirror. The look of relief and excitement on his future reflection’s face helped him gain a little more confidence. With a deep breath, he penetrated. “Oh Remus… yes… how…” How could it possibly feel so good? How could no one have told him it would be so amazing? “Want… need…” He moaned and pulled back then thrust in again. It was even better the second time, feeling Remus tight all around his shaft. After the third time in and out, Snape wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to last. He looked over at the past mirror, watching his reflections thrusting and practically dying of pleasure.   
  
He looked good. And Remus… Remus looked damn good.  
  
“Nnghh! Uhhh… eruhhhh…” Snape held onto Remus, as if the man could possibly get away. He tried to hold out as long as possible, but every thrust moved him closer. And finally… finally he came.   
  
It wasn’t what he expected, but for a few moments, all three versions of Snape all showed looks of ecstasy on the man’s face. It felt strange, coming inside someone like this. He was so used to the freedom wanking brought. This was so different, but still good.   
  
When he was finished, he stayed inside Remus a little longer, staring as his past reflection finished its orgasm. Then he slid out and flopped back onto the bed. He pulled Remus down with him and felt Remus’ cock still rubbing into Snape’s thigh. Remus hadn’t orgasmed. In all that time, Snape hadn’t once thought about Remus’ orgasm. It had been his first time doing this, his first time fucking a man, but he still should have been thinking of Remus the whole time. Though he wondered if Remus had been thinking of him. “I’m sorry. I should have touched you. I should have—”  
  
Remus covered Snape’s mouth with his palm to quiet him. He looked into Snape’s dark eyes, shaking his head. And when Snape reached to help Remus out, Remus’ hand got there first. Remus pumped his own cock routinely. He closed his eyes. And, suddenly, he came. He opened his eyes as ribbons struck Snape’s bare leg, crotch, and stomach. He pumped himself unashamedly. And, when he was done, he slumped against Snape’s tired body.   
  
Snape encircled Remus with his arms, hugging the man close. Before he knew what was happening, he was snuggling Remus in both mirrors.


	26. Chapter 26

Snape woke the next morning to find Remus hugging him. For the first time in a long time, he’d made it through a whole night without the werewolf nightmare. And it was beyond nice to wake up in someone’s arms. Even if that someone was squirming. “Remus?”   
  
Looking over his shoulder, he saw Remus was wide awake already and on edge. Remus wasn’t precisely hard, but he was grabbing his cock. “Oh,” Snape said, giving a small, sly small. “You have to piss, don’t you?”  
  
Remus nodded. Snape hadn’t given him permission and Remus, in his well-assumed role as a sub, had obeyed the order to not leave and use the bathroom. He squeezed his cock, holding back, holding in.   
  
Snape felt a rush of pleasure at it. He had never been able to tell anyone about this desire. He had never been able to even fathom actually living it out. But with Remus not in a position to speak of it, but willing to do whatever Snape wanted, Snape couldn’t resist. Besides, Remus only looked half uncomfortable about it. “Can you hold it?”  
  
Remus considered for a moment, squirming a little and tightening his hold around hic cock, pinching it. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth.  
  
“Can you hold it a little longer, just for me?” The words felt so good coming out of his mouth. Beautiful control and the excitement of not knowing how long it would last. There was such suspense. Such anticipation. Merlin, it made him hard.  
  
With a nod, indicating he could hold it a little longer, Remus used his free hand to roll Snape over, in place. But the movement in bed beside him seemed to be too much. He breathed out hard and suddenly thrust forward, grabbing Snape and shoving his crotch up against Snape’s thigh. He trembled and squeezed Snape’s arm so hard he almost cut off circulation. He buried his face in Snape’s shoulder, feeling shame. And he hooked his leg around Snape’s leg as if he were steadying himself before humping it.   
  
But he didn’t piss. This earned his head a gentle rub and a tender kiss, that made Remus look up into Snape’s face. And that look—full of apology and urgency and gratefulness and intense arousal—made Snape completely melt. He put an arm around Remus and held him close. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “You’re doing so well. And you’re so hot like this. You need me, don’t you?”  
  
If Remus could make noise, he might have whimpered. Instead, he just nodded and confirmed in the form of another kiss. But his lower lip trembled slightly and Snape’s lips closed around it. It held tight, sucked, trying to give Remus something to think about apart from his full bladder.   
  
It worked, too. It worked for a few long minutes. It worked long enough for Remus to relax in Snape’s arms.   
  
But then something inside Remus snapped. There was a spasm or an urge or something, Because Remus, his expression pained, pushed his cock desperately into Snape again, pushing hard, rubbing, grinding. Snape knew he had to help. He reached down and slid his hand around the struggling cock. He pinched and squeezed, having some private familiarity with what it felt like to hold in hours and hours of piss. He vanished Remus’ sleep pants, giving him access, skin against skin. As his thumb pressed against Remus’ slit, he felt moisture—a little spurt. Warm. Wet. And that familiar aroma.   
  
For a second, Snape wanted Remus to let it out. He wanted to feel the hard stream against his palm. He wanted Remus to wet his leg and the bed, warming them both. But he also wanted that control a little longer. He wanted to suffer and wait with Remus. He wanted to help and to comfort and he wanted Remus to piss when he absolutely couldn’t hold it anymore and not give in to Snape’s desires.   
  
“You’re doing so well, Remus. So proud of you. You’re so sexy, so bloody sexy like this.”   
  
Remus smiled, a little embarrassed.   
  
“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Snape admitted. “Never had the guts. So dirty…”  
  
Remus shook his head and kissed Snape’s cheek.   
  
“Figures I’d end up doing it with a werewolf. When it happens, I want you to mark me.” This earned him another of Remus’ kisses. “And it figures I’d end up doing it with you. Do you remember that prank you and your friends pulled on me sixth year? Trapping me in the supply closet in the prefect’s bathroom, running the water in the tub and all the sinks, flushing the toilets, thinking it was so funny? I was in there holding myself, all right. Felt so good, though. Does this feel good, Remus?”   
  
Snape was a man of few words, and the topic of what the Marauders had done to him seemed like the last one he would ever choose to bring up. But the way he was rambling, spilling his guts, only showed Remus he was going out of his mind, overwhelmed with desire. Remus smiled at him.   
  
Then Remus squeezed Snape’s arm once again. It was the sort of squeeze he’d given before when trying to signal Snape to get the bottle ready because he was going to come. Only this time, it was a little different.  
  
But not all that different. There was still uncontrollable need and there was still intimacy. There was still trust and pleasure and the eventual letting go of something that would feel amazing. And Snape summoned the chamber pot from beneath his bed, giving Remus a bigger target this time than a tiny little potions bottle.   
  
Remus clutched Snape, not trusting himself to move. Snape squeezed his cock and felt it practically pulse in his grasp, leaking a little more. And that tiny little trickle, once it had escaped, couldn’t be stopped. It grew stronger and stronger and a tear escaped Remus’ eye as the man knew he was wetting.   
  
But Snape had pulled Remus up and had the chamber pot out. The sound of piss hitting the ceramic brought relief to Remus’ face. It was the exact same look he got when he orgasmed. That far away look as pleasure washed over him, took him away from the whole world and gave him back to himself.   
  
Snape wanted to move in to kiss him, but that look stopped him. That look was wonderful but not inviting. Excited, however, he still held Remus, feeling the muscles and heaviness, the warmth and tightness, of a body weeing. And he reached down, letting the delightfully hot stream wash over his hand. He rubbed his thumb and first two fingers; it felt almost like silk.   
  
He reached into his own pajama pants and stroked himself. It was all too much to stand, this living out of a fantasy finally, and Remus agreeing to go along with it and doing such an excellent job with it. Snape came in his pants, almost silently, as the last of Remus’ piss trickled out.   
  
When he was done, Remus dragged him to the bathroom and put the stopper in the tub’s drain. Snape ran a bath and Remus, spotting the bubble bath, added a heaping amount. Snape smirked as Remus had to open the bottle fresh; it had been a Christmas present from Dumbledore, apparently trying to convince him to relax a little during the winter holidays. Snape wondered what Dumbledore would say if he knew how Snape was really spending his break from teaching.   
  
Snape sank into the suds, sighing. And, though it was a tight fit at first, Remus stripped off his clothes and followed him in. Remus’ collar looked shiny when it was wet, and when he slid up against Snape’s slick body, Snape couldn’t resist touching it. That collar meant so much. It meant power and control, confidentiality and trust, pleasure and reliability. It meant a connection he had only dreamed of and fantasized about up until now. Except that now when the orgasms were over, Remus didn’t disappear the way Snape’s fantasies always did. Remus stayed to hold and reassure him. It felt wonderful. It felt so right.  
  
Except, deep down, Snape knew that it wasn’t.


	27. Chapter 27

The collar was charmed to be impervious to the elements, so Remus could wear it in the rain, the shower, or the bath without the leather or the metal or the plush padding getting ruined. Snape reached up and tugged on it a little, hooking his finger around the metal hoop and pulling Remus close. “I have something to confess to you, Lupin.”   
  
Remus cocked his head, awaiting the revelation.   
  
“The other morning, I saw you soaping up in here.” Snape sat up a little in the tub and smiled as he remembered the scene. “You were standing right here and you were wet. And hard. I watched you while you wanked.”   
  
Remus smiled back, as if to say he had left the door open and the curtain only half-pulled on purpose.   
  
“I watched you and I wanked along with you. I wanted to be there with you. Merlin… I wanted to be with you the second I took you home from the Market, but I didn’t know how it could possibly work. You scared me. You hurt me. I thought, back when we were in school, you hated me. But back at the Market you accepted my collar and everything that went with it.”  
  
Listening to the confession, Remus occupied himself by letting his hand, which was under the suds, find Snape’s body. It slid over Snape’s chest. Deft fingers pinched lightly at Snape’s nipples, then ran up and down, back and forth. The hand slid down to Snape’s stomach, lingering there for a moment before sliding down further.   
  
“Oh, Remus. I couldn’t. I just… nghh… yes…” Just like magic, Snape was starting to grow hard again. His eyes rolled back as Remus’ hand moved through the bubble-filled water to tease Snape’s cock to full arousal. Snape moaned happily, then seemed to pull himself back from the spot of pure pleasure. “I want to, but only if you come as well.”   
  
With his eyes on Snape’s, Remus nodded.   
  
“Would you like that, Remus? Truly? Would you like for us to come together?”   
  
Remus nodded again and confirmed with a stroke of Snape’s cock. Remus’ hand curled around Snape and pulled, slick under the water like this. Snape copied the action. When Remus kissed Snape, Snape kissed back. When Remus caressed Snape’s balls, Snape caressed Remus’. When Remus moved close and bucked toward Snape, Snape thrust toward Remus. Whatever Remus did, Snape did, even though Remus seemed to be doing a better job at it.   
  
Snape watched Remus’ eyes close, though, and he decided to keep his own eyes open. He felt the soft, bubbley water around him. He felt the orgasm building slowly inside him, starting with tingles and then moving on to gentle tugs and ending with the need for release. He felt surrounded. He felt light and floaty. He felt strangely graceful. And with the way Remus was growing hard as his touch, he felt sexy.   
  
It wasn’t often that Severus Snape felt sexy. Actually, it was never. But here he was, stroking the man’s lovely cock and there Remus was, breathing deeply and quickly.   
  
Only Remus didn’t look quite as pleased as usual. He was obviously aroused. He was obviously close. But he didn’t look like he had looked that first time. There wasn’t the same sort of desire. There wasn’t the passion.   
  
Remus’ breaths came so shallow and quick, then he sucked in a breath and held it. His back arched and he came. His face wore a pained expression and he cried out silently. When it was over, Remus opened his eyes and looked at Snape. And Snape realized he had missed his opportunity. Remus frowned as Snape’s cock went soft in his hand.  
  
“Lupin,” Snape began, then corrected himself. He spoke more softly. And he lifted his hand out of the warm water to touch Remus’ cheek. “Remus,” he tried again. “I want to know something. Will you answer something for me?” Remus nodded again, obedient without the need to question. “So what I want to know is: who do you think about when you come?”  
  
A fleeting look of panic crossed Remus’ face. It was so far that if Snape had blinked, he would have missed it. As it was, however, he saw and knew. So when Remus reached out and put a hand on Snape’s heart, Snape knew he was only communicating with what he thought his master wanted to hear.   
  
“You’re my collared werewolf, and I want you to tell me the truth. Can you do that?”  
  
Remus looked pained again and shook his head.   
  
“Please, Remus. Don’t you owe me at least that much?” He kissed Remus’ forehead. “I’ll still keep you and protect you, I promise. Who do you think of when you wank, Remus? Is it me?”  
  
Tears formed in Remus’ eyes, threatening to spill out. He tried to slip under the bubble-filled water to hide the wetness in his eyes, but Snape held him up.   
  
“Tell me.”  
  
Remus shook his head. Snape didn’t know if that were the answer to his question or if Remus were refusing to answer or even if Remus were trying to communicate that he could not “tell” anything. He could not speak, after all, not with the collar on.   
  
Snape felt sick to his stomach. He had known the man and Sirius Black had been lovers for years, but with what had happened, he had been sure Remus had seen the error of his ways. But, then again, he was still in love with Lily and probably always would be. Perhaps he would always be in love with Remus as well. But Snape still had to know for sure. “I will take that as a ‘no’. But, if it’s not, you will be able to tell me in a moment.” His hands dripping and starting to go all pruney, Snape reached over the side of the tub for his wand. With a swish and a little tug, Snape succeeded in undoing the collar. He pulled the beautiful black leather from Remus’ neck. It had left no mark, Snape was glad to see.   
  
Or was he sad to see it? Remus was still his, wasn’t he? What did this change? Would Remus leave? Would Remus attack? Would Remus curse him into a thousand pieces or do what he had almost done years ago on the night of the full moon, down in that tunnel? Or would Remus snap, unable to handle this change? “Remus,” he said, worried beyond measure. “Remus, are you all right with this?” He had asked Remus for permission to put the collar on, but he hadn’t asked permission to take the collar off. “You can speak now,” Snape said. “Are you all right?”  
  
Remus whimpered, and Snape jumped in place, spilling some water over the side of the tub. He had heard the sound. And it sounded—well, not beautiful.   
  
“Can you speak?” He swallowed hard. “Will you speak?”  
  
Remus looked at him blankly. His hand reached up to feel his neck without the collar. And the look of distress on his face was infinitely worse than the panic before on his face. Startled and worried, Snape stood up. Remus followed as well, standing up. Snape climbed out of the bathtub and Remus followed him. Whatever Snape did, Remus did. Snape reached over for a towel and Remus grabbed a towel as well. In fact, Remus wrapped the towel around both of them. He huddled close to Snape for warmth as the two men shivered in the cold bathroom.   
  
“Say something,” Snape whispered pleadingly. “Or do something, at least.”  
  
Remus, pressed up against Snape’s front, did something. He rubbed his body against Snape’s. He took Snape’s cock in hand and pressed his thigh to the man’s crotch. He washed the flicking tip of his tongue over one of Snape’s nipples and he reached around, squeezing Snape’s arse with his other hand. Without a word, Remus touched him, rubbed him, and expertly revived the erection Snape had lost in the tub.   
  
Snape shook his head. “Wait… please… just say something to me first…”  
  
It was a case of actions speaking much louder than words; Remus actions were yelling at top volume. Remus dropped to his knees and serviced Snape right then and there without a moment’s hesitation. And when he had swallowed every last bit, he stayed there, hugging Snape’s legs, his cheek pressed against Snape’s smooth thigh.   
  
Reaching down, Snape put his hand on Remus’ head and ruffled his hair. His heart broke and he whispered, “Oh Remus…”


	28. Chapter 28

Sharp teeth gnashing. Amber eyes gleaming. Fur standing on end. Snape stood there, petrified with fear, facing his demise and not being able to do a thing about it. 

Snape woke in the middle of the night with a start. He was flushed, burning, overheated under the covers and trapped there next to Remus. Remus’ arms were around him, but he pushed them off to give his chest some room to breathe. He sat up, turned, and hunched over, sitting on the edge of his bed to try to catch his breath. Control escaped him, and when he stared into the darkness of his bedroom, all he saw was how a werewolf might jump out at him.

Remus reached out and touched Snape’s back, and Snape jumped up, scared to death. His breathing raced and heart pounded and neither was soothed by the image of the uncollared and potentially dangerous werewolf in his bed. Remus patted the bed beside him, signaling to Snape to come lie back down with him. But Snape shook his head and backed into the wall. 

“I don’t want to sleep with you tonight,” Snape said. “Please, just get out.” True as it was, Snape refused to give Remus the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line. Luckily, he did not have to. 

Remus got up. He looked longingly at the bed as Snape lay back down in it. Snape rolled over onto his side again, turning his back to Remus and the door and trying to calm himself down, though he didn’t want to go back to sleep. Sleep meant more nightmares, more memories. He lay in bed, pinching himself repeatedly to keep from falling back to sleep.

*

In the morning, Snape felt exhausted. He had drifted off, inevitably, but not for very long and not in a particularly deep sleep. His whole body ached with stiffness and fatigue. Snape pulled himself out of bed and fell over something on his floor. “Lupin!” he exclaimed, picking himself up. He knew he sounded angry—and he did in fact feel pretty angry—but he was more surprised and startled. “I thought I told you to go.” Remus looked up, rubbing his side where Snape’s foot had made contact. When his gaze met Snape’s, Remus shrunk back in fear. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Snape said, completely unable to even fathom doing anything his father had done. “I’d never hurt you. You just startled me there, that’s all.” Snape paused, thinking. He hadn’t specifically told Remus to go sleep in the guest room. So he had ended up as close to Snape as possible without being in bed. 

“I’m going to go shower. And, before you ask…“ though he so wished Remus would ask, because that would mean he would be talking, “no, you cannot join me in the shower.” 

Snape yawned and stretched in the shower, trying to wake himself up. This whole situation was such a mess. He had thought he was getting somewhere with Remus. He had thought Remus was getting better. But now they were right back where they’d started. Actually, they were worse, because Remus seemed even more attached to him now and didn’t even have a collar to explain the bond. They had been intimate. Merlin’s beard, they had even kissed. And what kisses they had been, too.

Snape’s hand slid down his chest and grabbed his cock. The shower spray pelted down on his privates and he breathed out deeply. But it didn’t feel as good as it had when Remus was touching it. He wanted Remus back, and he had hoped that by setting Remus free, Remus would choose to stay. But he didn’t like how Remus had reacted. He gave serious thought to tossing off in the shower, but he felt ill as he remembered watching Remus do just that… and remembered telling Remus about it. So he let go of his cock and stretched again. Then he reached for the soap.

When he was finished with his shower, Snape dressed and headed down to eat breakfast… which he found already cooked and laid out for him on the table. Remus stood beside the table, beaming with pride. Scrambled eggs, buttered toast triangles, halved grapefruit, syrup-soaked sausages, black coffee, and a full glass of milk. There was only one place setting at the table, and it was clearly meant for Snape. In case Snape couldn’t figure it out, Remus repeatedly gestured toward the chair. Snape sat down and Remus immediately put a napkin in his lap then knelt down beside Snape like an obedient dog waiting for table scraps. 

Snape set his elbow on the table and dropped his face into his hand. “Lupin, you don’t have to do all this.” Such a show, a production—it was entirely unnecessary. Moreover, it was a bit absurd. He looked down at Remus and saw nothingness in the man’s eyes. Snape sighed. “Are you hungry?” Remus still looked blank, so Snape put his hand down and snapped loudly to get his attention. “I said, are you hungry?” Remus nodded and, instead of getting up to fix himself some breakfast, he dropped his mouth open and closed his eyes. Snape closed his own for a second, shaking his head. “Oh for goodness sakes, Lupin.” He shoved a piece of toast halfway into Remus’ mouth. Then he grabbed the man and guided him into a chair at the table. He retrieved a fork and plate from the dish drainer and set aside half his breakfast—he kept some of the eggs, one piece of toast, the grapefruit, and coffee. Remus was the one with the sweet tooth. “I have plenty,” Snape said when Remus hesitated. “Eat.” Remus obeyed the command. 

*

Snape held a small vial up in front of his face so he could fill it to the marked line with bubbling green liquid. His mind wandered to Remus, to how he could fix the mistakes, to what he might do to help Remus, to what he could do get it back to where they were, and he over-filled the vial. He swore and turned to pour a little out into the bowl, and he bumped into Remus. 

Remus stood beside him, not knowing what to do to help Snape in his workroom, but wanting to stay close to Snape. 

He appreciated the affection, but this was getting ridiculous. “Lupin, would you please give me some space to work?” 

Looking hurt, Remus took a single step back. 

Snape went back to work, measuring, adding things to the cauldron, adjusting the flame height. The potion he was working on kept solidifying before it could react with the wormwood. A lower boiling point might just do the trick. He measured out a few spoonfuls of finely-grated beetle shell and turned to add it to the cauldron where he was preparing a fresh batch. 

But Remus was standing right there and Snape bumped into him. Remus tried to move out of the way before Snape could scold him, but he only succeeded in catching his hand in the fire. Remus jumped and whimpered, clutching his hand in the other and curling around it, shielding it with his body. 

At once, Snape went for a plant on the back shelf. He pulled off one of the spikes and wrapped his arm around Remus to hold him in place. “Let me see your hand,” he said softly. 

Remus didn’t seem to want to move his hand, but his trust in Snape overrode his better judgment. His hand shook as he held it out and Snape immediately squeezed some aloe over the wound. It wasn’t a bad burn. It had barely touched him. It was red and didn’t look great, but it would heal well if he took care of it. “It’ll be all right,” Snape soothed as Remus continued to whimper. Snape stroked the non-burnt part of Remus’ hand and the man quieted at once. So they were back to this again. Back to the touching and the comforting and getting to know what their dynamic would be like. Except that Snape already knew. Being with Remus had felt so damn good. He thought it was what he had wanted. And then he had gone and ruined it by changing things.

Remus looked down at his injured hand and hesitated only a second before reaching for the beetle shell powder. He held it out like a peace offering, a look of worry on his face. When Snape didn’t immediately reach for it, he whimpered and moved away. 

And that’s when Snape realized exactly what he had done wrong. He had thought taking off the collar would help Remus. Remus had seemed to be getting so much better. Sure, the man might still have feelings for his ex, but Snape had baggage too and he had honestly thought Remus was falling for him maybe just a little. He had thought that taking off the collar would give Remus his independence back. Remus would be able to speak again and make his own decisions again. Remus would finally be able to tell him what he really needed to finish healing. 

But now Snape realized that Remus had seen the collar removal as a punishment. He had thought it meant he had failed as a submissive. He had thought it had something to do with his feelings for Sirius and his honesty. And now he was trying to prove that he could serve Snape well, even if he still had feelings for someone else. Having his security and position taken away from him was a punishment worse than any spanking or beating he could have received. Worse for Remus than being used was the feeling of not being wanted. 

“Lupin,” Snape said, taking the man’s non-burnt hand and walking him to the sofa in the other room. “We need to talk.”

Remus pulled back before getting to the couch, however, apparently scared it would mean his dismissal. 

“I’m not going to get rid of you. If you choose to leave, I won’t stop you, but I don’t want you to go.” He forced Remus onto the couch with him, regretting the use of force but finding that Remus responded to it better than to reassuring words. Snape took a few deep breaths and squeezed Remus’ hand tightly in both of his own. “I’m not sure you realize how deeply I was falling for you. And I am absolutely sure you don’t realize how much I still want you.”

 

 


	29. Chapter 29

Remus regarded Snape with a skeptical expression on his face.   
  
“It’s true,” Snape said. “I do care about you—very much in fact. It doesn’t matter to me who else you loved or still love.”  
  
Remus made the only sound he seemed capable of making: he whimpered.   
  
“Oh,” Snape said, tired to death already with Remus’ only vocalization. “Just come here.” He pulled Remus close and let the man snuggle into his chest. He pet Remus’ head reassuringly and closed his eyes. “The problem, Remus, is that I don’t want you as my servant or my love slave or any of that. I want you here because you want to be here with me rather than anywhere else you could go.” He felt Remus tighten up and continued petting. “I know you don’t have a lot of options, but I could ask around a little. Maybe Dumbledore has some suggestions or maybe some job will open up somewhere. Look, if you want to make me happy, you’ll do what makes you happy. I just hope that, after exploring what we could be over these last few days you might decide I make you happy.”   
  
Snape felt Remus tense up again and Snape took an especially deep breath. “You think of him still—that’s understandable. There’s someone from my past I think about at times as well. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company together now.”   
  
Remus sat motionless for a while, listening and considering. He stayed in Snape’s arms, as if scared he might move and break the spell that held them now.   
  
Finally, he reached down to slide his good hand down the front of Snape’s trousers. But Snape caught the hand before it could make it that far and shook his head. “I don’t want you doing something just because you think it’s what I want.” Remus looked hurt, confused, and lost.   
  
Snape kissed the top of Remus’ head, then trailed softer, smaller kisses down his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, and to the tip. “Remus Lupin, do you trust me?”   
  
Remus gave his standard, submissive nod, agreeing with anything his owner proposed. Snape didn’t buy it for an instant, but he knew it would take more than a yes-or-no question to draw Remus out of the safety of submission. It was so much easier to let someone think for you and feel for you and tell you what to do. “I need you to trust me, because I want to make you feel again.”   
  
This required more than just Snape tossing Remus. It required emotion. It required something long and drawn-out. It required intimacy. It required something Snape had never before tried.   
  
He ran his hand up Remus’ legs, feeling the tiny raised scars on the man’s fair skin. His fingers slid inward teasingly, getting close to Remus crotch but not going all the way. Snape bit down on the end of Remus robes and dragged them up. Then he ducked his head under and found the waistband of Remus’ pants. He nuzzled with his formidable nose and tugged down with his teeth, until Remus’ crotch was exposed.   
  
Snape stuck his tongue out and began licking, as though Remus were a treat. Which, in a way, he was. This might be his last chance to not only do this but show Remus what he felt. He wasn’t used to expressing his feelings in words or in actions. But for Remus, he knew he had to. He licked until Remus grew hard, until Snape could taste the bitter pre-come on the head of Remus’ cock. He locked until Remus made that whimpering sound again. And then Snape gave him something to really whimper about.   
  
With a deep breath and a bend of his neck, he opened his mouth and took Remus’ cock into it.   
  
He had had cause before this to reflect upon how big cocks could feel. They looked perfectly fine-sized. They looked wonderful… and maybe they looked a little funny under some conditions. But it wasn’t until one was inside you that it felt enormous. Snape had been the receiving end of cocks a hundred times, thanks to the Death Eaters and their ways. But he’d never fucked anyone until Remus. And he had never had anyone give him a blow job until Remus.   
  
It seemed to be the thing Remus went to every time he wanted Snape’s approval. Therefore, Snape knew it was the thing he needed to do, and he had done it a hundred times before because of the Death Eaters. But he had never done it like this. He sucked and licked, moving his mouth up and down the shaft. He tried everything he could think of to coax an orgasm out of Remus and, by extension, draw Remus out of himself.   
  
He did more than suck and lick and rub. He put every emotion he had into it. He reached out, desperately wanting, hoping. His head went light and fuzzy as he worked Remus’ cock and balls and thighs and everything else. He closed his eyes, feeling heat and desire. There was the smell of sweat and taste of come. There was the sound of Remus’ labored breaths as the man gasped and panted, trying to hold out as long as possible.   
  
Remus lasted far longer than Snape would have guessed, but Snape kept changing his patterns, keeping it interesting. When the man could take it no longer, he took a final breath and came. Snape wasn’t as good at this part as Remus, and his mouth overflowed with the bitter, creamy stuff before he could swallow the first time. He managed most of it. The only sound was of Snape swallowing; Remus’ orgasm was unnaturally silent.  
  
And when he was done, he threw off the robes and lifted his head, breathing the nice cool air. He looked at Remus, expecting something more. He expected to see life in Remus’ eyes. It was a damn good orgasm, and Snape knew it. Remus smiled, but he said nothing.   
  
This hadn’t changed a thing. He let Snape clean him and prop him up against the couch cushions. He let Snape hold him, cuddle him. But he still didn’t let Snape in. He would do anything for Snape… why couldn’t Remus do this thing for him now?  
  
“Do you know what your problem is?” Snape asked, cuddling Remus close. “I mean, apart from the fact that you won’t snap out of this and talk to me. It’s that you Gryffindors are so damn trusting.”   
  
Remus pulled back a little, looking up into Snape’s eyes with confusion. “You put your trust in people because you respect their values or ideas or their strong leadership. You give your hearts to the wrong people and give your trust away to people who claim to be good. Well there’s more to life than that. People aren’t black or white, good or evil. Sometimes the seemingly good ones will let you down.” And vice-versa. Fuck. This wasn’t going the way he had planned, but he was frustrated and worried and if good fellacio didn’t work, it seemed like nothing would. “Your previous owners were shite, Remus. They treated you badly. They were bad people—Sirius Black included. Black betrayed your trust. He wasn’t worthy of you. He wasn’t worthy of your love. He wasn’t worthy of Lily. And now she’s dead and it’s Black’s fault… and mine.”  
  
Shaking his head vigorously, Remus lifted a finger to his mouth in a signal for Snape to quiet.  
  
But Snape barely saw the sign. He wasn’t sure how much he could admit to and knew he could never say it all, but he kept going, his voice cracking, his volume growing louder and louder. “She didn’t have to die. And trust was the problem.”  
  
Tears in Snape’s eyes threatened to spill out. He hugged Remus again so the man wouldn’t see. But by then it was too late. Remus hugged Snape back, though, clinging to him so tightly Snape could barely draw breath. Tears leaked from the corners of Snape’s eyes, falling down his face onto Remus’ head and shoulder. He hugged Remus tightly, not caring if Remus didn’t understand, but needing to say it and do it just the same. He rocked in place, trying to hold back the chest-filling sobs, because once those started, he wasn’t sure what he might do.  
  
“Severus.”  
  
Snape rocked forward and back again with Remus hugged to his chest, then he froze in place. For one brief moment, he was certain he had just imagined it. But then it came again.   
  
“Severus.” Followed by a soft and soothing, albeit hoarse, “I understand.”


	30. Chapter 30

“What do you mean I’m not allowed to purchase another one?” The hefty man was all wet pit stains and glistening bald spot. He tried to look imposing, but it was clear he was getting frustrated.  
  
Whereas the Ministry program guard was the very definition of calm, composed, and in charge. “Just what I said, Sir. We’ve had some complaints about you, and—”  
  
“Complaints?” The man’s voice boomed loudly, filling the whole floor. “They are  _werewolves_. Merlin’s beard, man, are you prepared to take their word over mine?”   
  
“I don’t need to,” replied the official. “The program is being shut down.”  
  
“ _What?!_ ”   
  
“The werewolf selling program here is being shut down permanently. The Ministry has decided on a different course of action for the creatures.”  
  
The man cocked his head. “Oh yes? May I ask what?”  
  
The official shook his head. “You may, but you will not find out. I’m placing you under arrest.”  
  
“Excuse me?”   
  
“You’ll be taken into custody pending a trial on charges of intentional abuse and destruction of Ministry of Magic property. You might not get taken to Azkaban for the offense, but by the time we’re done making an example of you, you’ll wish you had been.” Before the man could reach for his wand, several aurors Apparated in and grabbed him. They clapped magical irons with chains around his wrists.  
  
The man did not go quietly. He struggled and thrashed about until his gaze fell on a familiar face. His eyes widened. “You!”  
  
Arms crossed over his chest, Remus smirked from his spot in the corner, full of satisfaction. “Me,” he replied coolly, his voice smooth but strong.   
  
Remus’ previous owner uttered curses and tried to break free, but the aurors’ bindings held fast. He was led back down the hall, past the units of werewolves, who threw things at the man—leftover food, mostly. Neither the aurors nor the guards stopped them.  
  
“Can’t I send him just one little curse?” Remus glanced over his shoulder, feeling Snape’s hand on his back. “Please?” He had his wand out, a Sectumsempra at the ready.  
  
Smirking, Remus shook his head. “Believe me, this will be much worse for him. He’s completely lost his control now. And he won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore. That’ll be torture for him.”   
  
Snape rubbed his hand up and down Remus’ back. Remus smiled at the touch. He reached back and took Snape’s hand. Remus led the man right out of the Market and didn’t look back.   
  
The daylight was so bright when they stepped out that it made Remus wince and made Snape take a small step backward at first. Remus hooked his arm around Snape’s and pulled him forward. “So,” Snape said as they started down the sidewalk together. “Dinner at seven after your shift at the library?”   
  
“Sure.” Remus nodded. “Oh, wait. No. I promised Rolf and the others in Unit Eight I’d have dinner with them tonight. They’re going to have some trouble adjusting to life outside of the Market.”   
  
“Much like you did,” Snape pointed out.   
  
Remus had to agree with that whole-heartedly. He remembered the weeks upon weeks it took for him to be able to even have a full, proper conversation with Severus Snape about a topic that didn’t have anything to do with sexual intercourse. Another week had passed before he had been able to truly enjoy himself without restraint in bed. It had taken a full month after that to venture out into the muggle world to find a job at some place that didn’t know what he was. He had been lucky, though. The other werewolves didn’t have a Severus Snape to help them.   
  
“But I’ll bring us back some desert.” A sly grin crept onto Remus’ face. “I’ll meet you in bed at nine.”   
  
Snape pulled a bit of a face. “Oh, not food in bed again. It took me three days to get that melted chocolate completely out of the sheets.”  
  
“It did not. I used Scourgify. That took it right out immediately.”   
  
“Well, you must have missed some when you cleaned.”   
  
“And you must have missed the part where I’m not your servant. If you want one of those, get a house elf.”   
  
Snape grabbed Remus by the collar of his robes. His teeth clenched. He stared into Remus’ eyes. Then Remus leaned forward and they kissed.


	31. Chapter 31

**Epilogue**  
1995  
  
  
The way he lay beneath a kneeling Remus and sucked his cock, it was almost like he was worshipping it. He craned his neck, eager to get to the member, sticking straight out and down, pointed right at him. He teased with his tongue, swirling and flicking, and kept his lips covering his teeth as his mouth slid up and down the shaft. When he tasted Remus’ pre-come, he knew it was time to stop, though only in order to switch positions.   
  
His tongue trailed down the whole length of the shaft and kept going, licking Remus’ balls and taking one then the other into his mouth for a good, brief suck while he was there. Then trailing his tongue down further. His body slid while Remus stayed still, in place. Eventually he flipped over and kept his tongue moving along the path until it was nestled between Remus’ arsecheeks. He jabbed with it, poking at Remus’ hole. Then he set his whole mouth there, wet and hungry, and licked and sucked Remus until the man cried out with need and desire for a cock.  
  
Doggy-style, it seemed, had been made just for them. He mounted Remus, getting exactly the right angle thanks to some pillows and the wall the two older men could lean against for balance as they got into position. Remus, his hand on his wand, performed a nonverbal lubrication spell, just to be sure, before the man entered Remus. His cock was strong and so wonderfully familiar. There was a certain kind of joy in the magic of knowing exactly how someone feels inside you, being able to look forward to that marvelous feeling again and again, never letting you down. When you found something this good, it was important to hold onto it, and Remus had no intention of ever letting him go.   
  
A fist closed around Remus’ cock and began pumping it in time to his thrusts in and out. Those large, strong hands had just the right sort of grip and warmth to them, drawing out an orgasm as he repeatedly struck Remus’ prostate. Remus’ hands fisted the bed sheets, knuckles white from his grip. It was impossible for this to last long. Pleasure, desire, and trust overwhelmed Remus and he cried out loudly, coming with an orgasm that made his whole mind go blank and his whole body tremble with tingles.   
  
He was barely aware of the man inside him coming as well. The protection spells he had worked before sex kept things safe, so he couldn’t feel the full extent of the fullness, but he did feel the warmth grow and he certainly heard the deep groan of pleasure.   
  
The man slumped forward when it was over, his cheek on Remus’ back. Remus’ arms were starting to feel the strain of the weight that came with the position, but his elbows were locked and he held out a few minutes more until the man returned to his senses.   
  
He pulled out and rolled off. And Remus moved over, snuggling up on the side of the bed upon which he had not just spilled his seed.   
  
“That… was… amazing.” Remus turned, taking Sirius’ head between his palms and kissing him fully. “Truly amazing.”   
  
Sirius beamed, pleased with himself. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” He chuckled, rubbed his hand at his crotch, adjusting himself.  
  
Remus put his arms around Sirius and hugged his mate close. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were sneaking out of Grimmauld Place and taking lessons somewhere.”  
  
“Never. I’d never cheat on you.” Sirius immediately realized that was the wrong thing to have said. Remus stiffened and pulled away. He sat up, turning away from Sirius. “Oh, no. Merlin, no. I didn’t mean it like that, Moony.” Rubbing his hand up and down Remus’ back, Sirius moved up against the man again, draping a protective and reassuring arm around him. “I don’t blame you for anything that happened when I was in Azkaban. You had just lost everyone you cared about. You had lost yourself. That wasn’t your choice.”   
  
“I didn’t have to turn tricks.”  
  
“No,” Sirius agreed, wrapping one arm around Remus’ torso. “But you would have died if you hadn’t done what you needed to survive. And I prefer you alive, no matter what else you are—or were.”   
  
He gently placed his lips to the back of Remus’ neck, just like he used to back in Hogwarts when the professors’ backs were turned, and the touch made Remus shiver a little but smile.   
  
“I thought we worked through this already,” Sirius said finally. “I don’t need to hear it again. I love you—all of you—and you don’t have to prove a thing to me.” With a deep breath, “So let’s drop the matter. Besides, I have a present for you.”   
  
Remus brightened and clapped his hands. “You know I like presents. Is it chocolate?”  
  
Sirius got up to retrieve something from his trunk. “Better.” He threw the word over his shoulder.  
  
“Better than chocolate?” That seemed somewhat impossible.   
  
Sirius returned with a medium-sized box, not wrapped but topped with a bow. Remus pulled off the bow and threw the top of the box aside. Then he stared down at the present. A rush of excitement coupled with sickening dread took hold of him. It was a collar—a beautiful one, with an adjustable buckle, striking studs, and a padded lining. He broke out in a sweat and, panicking, he took his eyes off the collar.   
  
“You don’t like it? But I remember back before… everything… you always talked about how much you wanted one. I know I fucked it up that one time, but I’m older and wiser now and I understand what a collar really means. I want to give it to you, if you’ll accept it.”   
  
Remus wanted to accept it. He badly wanted to put it on and never, ever take it off again. He wanted Sirius to know he was loyal and would never betray him. He wanted to accept it in order to make that commitment, that promise. But he couldn’t even touch it. “Pads, there’s something I didn’t tell you about.” He turned, snuggling into Sirius’ warm, inviting chest, listening to the man’s steady heartbeat, feeling the strong arms embrace him. And he spoke. He told Sirius everything he could—enrolling in the Ministry of Magic’s program, meeting the other werewolves, being collared and owned and used, nearly dying of fever and blood loss. He felt Sirius tighten when he talked about Snape, the experimenting, and Snape taking the collar off. He explained about getting the will to speak back and almost killing his previous owner. And he talked about the job Snape had arranged for him that saved him from having to go back to the Ministry. But he did not—and would not—betray Snape’s confidences. He didn’t tell about the emotional journey he and the Hogwarts Potions Master had gone through, and he didn’t go into a single bit of detail about the physical intimacy they had shared.   
  
When Remus was finished with the story, Sirius still hugged him. In fact, Sirius kissed Remus’ forehead tenderly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”  
  
“You didn’t know.”  
  
Sirius took one hand off Remus and shoved the box with the collar aside, letting it fall over the edge of the bed it had no place on. “Forget that, then.”  
  
Remus closed his eyes, nuzzling his face into Sirius’ chest. “I want to belong. I want to be yours. But I want to belong to myself first and foremost.”  
  
“I understand,” Sirius whispered the magic words. He tightened the hug reassuringly and Remus hugged back. They remained like that for what seemed like ages. Then Sirius spoke up. “Snape really bought you? Owned you? Fucked you? Even though he knew we had been together?”  
  
Remus nodded, pulled back so he could look into Sirius’ eyes, and nodded again. “I think that’s one of the reasons he was so angry with me during the year I taught at Hogwarts.”   
  
“He was jealous? He thought you were helping me because you still loved me?”  
  
“I did still love you.” He straightened up and kissed Sirius. It was a lengthy, lingering kiss that ended in three small, affectionate pecks.   
  
“So what did ol’ Snivelus do with you? I bet he has all sorts of sick, perverted kinks.”   
  
“I can’t tell you that,” Remus said. “I promised him I wouldn’t.”  
  
“You promised that when you wore his collar, when he controlled you and you had no choice but agree to it. He doesn’t control you now.” Remus still hesitated. “C’mon, love, you can tell me.”  
  
But Remus shook his head. “I can’t—I won’t.”   
  
Sirius snorted. “I was there in the shack too, remember? You don’t owe Snape a single thing.”   
  
Remus looked into Sirius’ gray eyes. “Actually, that’s not true. I owe him everything.”


End file.
